Protect and Serve: To Protect
by Lasarina
Summary: She was a cop in her world, cursed and banished, she ends up in Middle-earth. Now she finds herself traveling with the Fellowship and struggling to adapt to a strange world while trying not to change it. Can she find her way home, and when the time comes, will she want to? Not really a 10th walker as she follows her own path and steals no lines from characters.
1. Once Upon a Time in a Brothel

I'm only going to give this disclaimer once. Anything you recognize from _Lord of the Rings,_ I don't own. Anything else is mine.

Rated M for violence, adult languages, and adult themes and situations.

**Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time in a Brothel**

I slid the chamber closed on my 9mm one last time before I replaced my Glock in its hip holster. My hand reached out to pull on the trunk lid.

"Come on! Pop the trunk, old man," I good-naturedly ribbed my partner.

"Why? Are you really in such a hurry to bust up a whorehouse, Lane?" Mike laughed while reaching in his pocket for his key fob and pushing the trunk release on the remote.

"Oh yeah," I laughed. "It's my ideal way to spend a Saturday night."

Mike snorted as I reached into the trunk for my gear bag and grabbed his as well to toss to him. "Girl, you gotta get your priorities straight." His olive skin twisted into a sly smile and I knew what was coming. Even if his use of "girl" hadn't tipped me off to the unwanted marital advice every single woman seemed doomed for. "I've got a cousin who'd be just perfect for a single gal like you."

Read: He's single.

"Really?" I snorted. "One of your hundred cousins is still single?"

Mike grinned wider. "Well, I'm sure one of them still is."

I strapped my back-up weapon, a nice compact .40 caliber Smith & Wesson, into my ankle holster and pulled my boot-cut slacks over it. The tennis shoes didn't exactly go with the dress slacks, but I was more from the school of wearing clothing that was comfortable and that I could run in. Mike tended to be old-fashioned. A lot like the other forty-something detectives were, actually. He still wore dress shoes, a shirt and tie, and either a sport coat or jacket. And if a suspect decided to rabbit, I was the one who had to catch them. Mike insisted it was because I was junior to him as a partner, but I always insisted it was because he was wearing a suit.

Mike grunted as he pulled his bulletproof vest over his increasingly protruding belly. Okay, maybe I had to chase the suspects because Mike had had one too many donuts over the years.

"Ugh." Mike grunted along with a few choice swears as he retucked his shirt at his back.

Definitely too many donuts.

Hey, clichés are clichés for a reason. They're usually true. You try sitting in a car for hours waiting for something to happen without lots of coffee and some donuts to soak up all the liquid caffeine you poured down your throat in an effort to stay alert.

I smoothed my own vest in place and grumbled under my breath, "Why couldn't we just let Vice handle this?"

"Because they may be able to handle a normal prostitution raid just fine, but this new group from Mexico running these girls are bad news, Lane. Vice are used to pimps who beat on their girls and yeah, occasionally kill a few if the pimp gets outta hand, but these guys are something else. They already killed four guys that we know of in the Lower-Eastside gang. Brutal shit too. You saw the crime scenes. If the CPD doesn't shut them down now, we're gonna have a goddamned bloodbath on our hands when it becomes a street war. That means Homicide, Narcotics, Vice; everybody plays nice and works together." He shoved his now empty gear bag back into the trunk and turned his head away from me as he said under his breath, "Even if none of us want to work together."

I tossed my bag into the trunk as well and shut the lid. "I know, Mike. I've just got an uneasy feeling about this raid."

"You worried about that curse that Gypsy woman put on you yesterday?"

Those words coming out of anyone else's mouth would have been cause for laughter, but I knew Mike was absolutely serious. He mostly did believe in curses and shit like that.

Still, I couldn't help by roll my eyes. "The correct term now is Romani, not Gypsy," I informed him. "And no, I'm not worried about some nonsense some old woman spouted at me because we arrested her grandson."

I started to turn away from the car but Mike grabbed my elbow. I didn't much like being grabbed, but Mike and I had been partners for five years now, ever since I'd moved back to Chicago. We'd had each other's backs a lot in that time. And luckily for him, I was used to him enough that him suddenly grabbing me didn't set off any nasty reflexes anymore. Others weren't usually so lucky.

"But you said she put a death curse on you. Maybe you should have someone counter it. I know an old woman that—"

I cut him off there. "Enough, Mike. She spouted off some garbage, most of which I didn't catch because I only know a bit of the Romani language. Just because she said something to the effect of banishment and death doesn't mean she put a death curse on me."

"But she threw that magic powder on you," he insisted.

"You're too damned superstitious for your own good, ya Wop. Magic's no more real than all that other Catholic crap all you Italianos believe in."

He scowled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes. "One of these days, I will save your soul and convince you to be baptized and reborn a Catholic."

I laughed at that, just as I always did. "Sorry, Mike. 'Fraid my soul's past ever being saved."

We walked away from the car towards our rally point near the warehouse together. Mike continued to babble on about how he would eventually wear me down and save my soul, but I only listened with half an ear.

Unconsciously, I rubbed the spot on my vest over my heart where the Romani woman had thrown her powder the day before. Mike was superstitious, but deep down he didn't really believe in magic. And the rest of the world tended to be blissfully and wholly unaware of the other things that existed out there. Things not human. Real beings of magic. I knew better than most what things were out there, lurking in the shadows, hidden from the naïve eyes of most humans. But I'd certainly never been naïve. Nor was I like most humans.

But still, the powder hadn't felt to me of magic. So it couldn't be real.

Right?

* * *

><p>Mike and I cautiously edged our way through a small service door at the back of the warehouse. Since the raid had originated in their department, Vice wanted to be the big dogs and run things, so they were covering the front entrance where most of the action was and the customers came and went from. It was also where a majority of the gang members were lounging and likely where all the prostitutes were.<p>

Mike had the most seniority in Homicide, but he'd agreed to let Vice runs things and not push for us taking over the raid.

"Hey, it's not our rodeo," he'd responded when I'd asked him.

Eight of the other Homicide detectives with us on the raid followed in behind Mike and I, spreading out to take their assigned areas of the warehouse to clear. It wasn't much of a force to cover the large warehouse, especially with everyone remaining in pairs, but our sources had said the back of the warehouse was virtually empty. We were just supposed to be there for more numbers and "strictly as back-up" Fortelli had told us.

Plywood on the ground caught my eye. In the littered warehouse, it shouldn't have seemed out of place, but I could just see something under the edge of it. I knew Mike was close behind me, but I still whispered, "Sarge," to get his attention. I jerked my head towards the plywood and he nodded in response.

With my Glock still drawn, I moved forward and kicked the plywood to the side several feet. Underneath, a hidden stairway was revealed. I stepped closer but could only see partway down the stairway before it was shrouded in darkness.

I glanced over my shoulder at Mike.

He stepped closer and peered in as well. "Whad'ya think? That G.I. Jane sixth sense telling ya anything?" he whispered.

I ignored the stupid name just as I had the last thousand times he'd used it. I closed my eyes and tried to push forward with my mind to see if I could hear any thoughts down the stairway, but I was getting too much interference from all the cops that were still surrounding the building. Not to mention all the prostitutes and gangbangers.

"Nope, sixth sense is giving me nothing," I whispered back. Much as I had come to trust Mike, I wasn't about to elaborate on what that sixth sense was. My telepathy wasn't exactly an exact science anyway. So I wasn't sure how exactly to explain that I could hear thoughts from twenty or maybe thirty people who weren't cops and I just couldn't exactly pinpoint a direction to go with any of those thoughts. There were just too many of them.

It was one of the few things Mike didn't push me on for answers. He'd always accepted that sometimes I just knew things about people because I'd been a Marine and had training that made me good at reading people before I'd come back to Chicago and joined the police force. Superstitious Mike might be, but stupid he wasn't. He thought it was better to leave whatever I could do in simple generic terms, like referring to it as my sixth sense, than to ask a question about something he wasn't altogether sure he was ready to hear an answer to.

Mike glanced around, looking for the other detectives who had come in with us, but none were in sight. He sighed. "Well, guess we better check this out and clear it too, Lane."

I nodded and pulled out a flashlight from my belt to hold next to my gun as I slowly descended the stairs. They ended at a concrete wall and turned sharp to the left. I couldn't see beyond the ninety-degree turn ahead, and I still couldn't sort through the thoughts I could hear to pinpoint any of them in a particular direction. The cacophony was too much and too loud, so as I descended the stairs, I concentrated on closing them from my mind and focusing again only on what my ears could hear.

At the bottom of the stairs, I carefully peeked around the corner, confident that Mike was right behind me and would cover my back. The hallway was nearly as dark as the stairs, but I could see the faint glow of light coming from under several closed doors. I tried to ignore the smell that assaulted my nose, but it was difficult to block the stench of stale humid air, unclean bodies, and rotten food. Another all too familiar smell was laced in there as well: the coppery tang of old blood.

Slowly making my way down the darkened hallway, I paused to check the doors. They all appeared to be locked, and I didn't want to risk the noise of forcing them open.

Suddenly shots began to sound out overhead. _Stupid goddamned Vice cops!_ I cursed internally. The door I was just passing clicked as the lock was thrown and the door swung into the room. I instinctively moved backwards, in the direction I had come and in the direction of the safety of my partner. A shot echoed in the concrete hallway and I was aware of the sounds of it ricocheting on the concrete as Mike grabbed my shoulder to pull me backwards further.

"Fuck!" I yelled, as I felt a burning pain in my right bicep. I touched it with my fingertips and felt the wetness of blood. My right hand was still wrapped around the Glock, but I slid it to my other hand and flexed my right hand. The pain in my bicep was sharp and burning, but I could still move my hand just fine. It was too dark to assess the damage any further.

"Damn it," Mike swore from behind me, "you've been shot. You're bleeding."

"Just my arm. I'm fine," I assured him. "Damned Vice cops had to start playing cowboys and now we're stuck in the OK Corral." We both heard the sounds of a thud and a woman's pained scream, followed by glass shattering in the room the shot had just come from. I told Mike over my shoulder, "Give me your flashlight. I dropped mine." He started to argue that he should go first, but I cut him off, demanding the flashlight again. We both knew I was quicker. Plus, it was always in the back of my mind that he, at least, had a family. A wife and kids waiting for him to come home. I didn't.

He handed me his light with a huff and I struggled to keep a firm grip on my gun with only one blood-slick hand to grasp it. I shone the light into the room to see a woman huddled on the ground, crying as she rocked back and forth. A lamp on a table in the corner lit up the area near a mattress on the floor and gave the room the same faint glow I'd seen under the doors of the other rooms. I quickly looked around the rest of the room and found a busted out narrow window near the ceiling. A man's legs were just kicking and wiggling through as I dashed across the room to grab at them. I could only hold on with my left hand to pull downwards on his leg, but Mike was right behind me to throw his weight into bringing the asshole back down. I knocked the gun out of his hand and let Mike have the pleasure of pulling his hands behind his back and cuffing him. He was Latino, just like the rest of the thugs in his gang, but I was surprised by the youth of the little punk. I doubted if his face had even seen a razor yet.

Although if you judged his age based on the foul Spanish and sprinkling of English he was spitting at us, he'd pass for a lot older.

As Mike read him his Miranda rights, I stepped over to the dark-haired girl still wailing in the corner. I could see that her arms were covered in gray and green old bruises and spattered with fresh blood. Either she fought being forced into prostitution, or these guys just liked to be rough. Maybe both.

"Hey, you're going to be alright, sweetheart. We'll get you some help," I told her in a quiet, soothing voice.

I had just reached out to touch her arm when that warning internal voice of mine went off. _What the hell are you doing walking right up to a cornered, injured animal? You of all people should know better!_ I had just dropped my hand away when the girl looked up with wild eyes. I registered several things in a matter of split seconds. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old. And the hand that swung up towards me as she scrambled away wasn't empty. I didn't know where the gun had come from, but I had no time to react before it went off less than a foot from my chest. _Maybe death curses are real_, my mind wondered.

The force knocked me backwards, leaving my eyes fluttering as one last thought ran through my head. _I can't believe my story ends with me being killed by a child in a brothel._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** More to come. Let me know what you think so far.


	2. This Sure Ain't Kansas

**Chapter 2: This Sure Ain't Kansas**

My eyes flew open as my arms jerked and spasmed around me. I kicked my legs and felt my back arch while pain continued to flair in my chest. As my vision began to darken, I finally realized that I wasn't getting any oxygen and forced my lungs to take a shuddering breath.

The air wheezing into my lungs was almost more painful than the lack of oxygen had been before. I pulled at the front of my vest, but my brain and hands still didn't seem to be cooperating. Eventually I was able to get the vest yanked over my head.

The freedom of not having the restrictive vest on felt better than damn near anything I could think of right now.

I rolled over onto my knees and one hand, with the other gently probing my tender ribs. I felt myself still choking and wheezing as I tried to even out my breathing but I counted myself to be lucky as hell to still be breathing. Getting shot point-blank like that could have been the end for me, but miraculously, the vest did its job and stopped the bullet. _Never thought I'd be so damn thankful for having that bulky thing on._

I looked down at my right hand bracing me on the ground and noticed the blood trickling down and staining the dried, brown grass.

_What the hell? Where'd this grass come from?_

A hand suddenly descended onto my shoulder as I felt someone leaning over me from behind.

Covering my right hand with my left, I drove my right elbow backwards, catching my assailant in the face with my elbow and spinning him away from me with the force of my hit. I ignored the sound of his pained grunt and covered the distance between us, standing up and grasping a handful of long blond hair to wrench his head backwards and out of his hands.

I wasn't sure what had happened to my Glock, and it would take too long to grab my backup from my ankle, so instead, I easily slid a long white knife from the sheath at his side and pressed it below his chin to the white expanse of his throat now laid bare.

His struggles immediately ceased and the strange words he'd been muttering to himself as he cupped his bloody nose fell silent.

He was perhaps half a head taller than I was, but it wasn't anything I wasn't accustomed to. I was only five-foot eight-inches. Woefully average for most women. But I fisted my hand more tightly in his ridiculously long hair and pulled his head backwards, pressing my lips close to his ear.

"What the fuck do you think you're gonna do to me, Goldilocks? I'm not the kind of woman you fuck around with," I furiously whispered in his ear. Looking over his shoulder and taking in our surroundings, I became even angrier. "How the hell did I wind up out here in a forest?" I pressed, yanking his head back even further.

"Unhand me, woman. I have done you no harm, yet you cannot say the same. I was merely checking your well-being when you attacked me without provocation," he angrily bit back at me. Even angry, his voice sounded clean and light. And inhuman.

Jerking his head to tilt it to the side away from me, I craned to look at his ear. It was smoothly pointed. "Goddamned fairies," I swore as I swiftly pushed him away from me. His own knife wouldn't help me too much, not with how fast they moved and me hampered by the wound still bleeding in my arm. But I kept the long knife in my left hand as I drew my compact .40 from my ankle holster with my right.

Fear insured that even through the slickness of my bloody hand, I was able to hold the gun steadily on the fairy before me. Life—and the Marine Corp—had taught me that when fear gripped you, you had to use it to become deadlier, or fear would use you and make you dead.

I let my voice slip easily into Silva, their own language, so he'd know I wasn't ignorant of fairies. Or how to kill them. _"I don't know who the hell sent you, or if you just got lucky finding me, but I won't go anywhere with you. Not over your dead body and not even over mine."_

His hands had returned to cupping is bloody nose, and I heard the crunch of him forcing the bones back into place. But still he looked at me with a strange, maybe curious expression. It was almost impossible to tell the age of a fairy, but even a young one should have known more fear of guns and their cold iron. This one seemed to have no real fear.

"I do not understand your language, woman, but as we both speak Westron, perhaps it would be best to converse wholly in it."

"What the hell? It's English, you moron."

"Moor on? I do not understand this term," he said, his brows drawn together as he wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve.

I was completely confused myself. A fairy that didn't speak Silva? It wasn't really something they had to learn. It was a knowledge they were born to. Maybe he was a half-breed that had somehow been born to look as a fairy, but didn't seem to have many of the other traits, like knowledge of Silva or any discernible magic.

But to look so much like his people, he had to have more Fae blood in him than I did, and I'd been born with the knowledge of Silva even with my mixed heritage.

I reached out with my mind to catch the tenor of his thoughts. _Perhaps it's all just a ploy on his part to make me drop my guard; wouldn't put it past one of their tricky, treacherous kind._

Instead of thoughts in Silva, or even in English, I heard another almost melodious language. One I had never heard before. _What the hell is going on?_

Still, it didn't matter what language he spoke. He had to be a fairy, and I knew one thing for certain. "Go somewhere else to find yourself a breeder. I share no man nor fairy's bed unwillingly. If you think you're going to force me back with you to Tar-Na-Leigh, you had better think again. I don't ever want to see the Land of Light, and if you force me to go there, you better be prepared never to sleep again, 'cause the moment you do, I'll slit your throat and bathe in the blood."

I heard others come up behind the fairy as I spoke, but a quick glance told me that none of them were fairies, so I returned my attention to where the true danger lay.

The blond fairy looked horrified, and actually took a step backwards. _What, _I thought to myself, _never have a woman who fought back and promise to kill you?_

I was surprised when someone else stepped forward—a scruffy man with dark chestnut hair—and said, "My lady, I know not what you think has transpired, but no elf would commit so heinous an act, and no man worth the breath in his lungs would either."

_Elf? What the hell? Never heard of an elf before, not even among the creatures most never see. Well, not outside of children's made-up stories_ _anyway._ I quickly looked over the slack faces of the others. Four of them were quite small, they could have been brownies I supposed, but where the fairies were sickenly fair and beautiful, their cousins were truly sickening and hideous. These four just looked like small versions of men. Though, they did have hairy little bare feet, and the pointed ears of the Fae—guess not just like little men then.

"What the hell is going on?" I groaned. I reached out with my mind, but all I was getting from this odd group of nine beings was that same sense of horror apparent on their faces.

Another man stepped forward, old and gray in appearance. "Who are you and where are you from, child?"

I bristled at the term but something drove me to answer nonetheless. "Detective Rowan of the Chicago Police Department."

The old man looked puzzled. "I do not understand many of your words, child. What are you called?"

I began to feel weak and dizzy, reminding me that the wound in my right arm continued to bleed. "People call me Lane."

The man with the chestnut hair took half a step forward and gestured with his hand. "Please my lady, put down the knife, you are injured and bleeding. Let me attend to your wound."

I looked the group over again. They were all dressed in clothes that were hundreds of years out of fashion, and none of them seemed to be wielding any kind of weapon more advanced than knives and swords. I expected that from the fairy, but they were known for eschewing modern weapons and fashions. Most of them were quite old and preferred the older styles of their younger days. They also knew how easy it was to use steel (which was made from iron) for the bullets. Fairies could heal from many wounds, but iron made them as vulnerable and weak as humans.

The man with the chestnut hair and the other man with the sandy colored hair looked and felt like normal humans. _So what the hell are they doing with swords ... and bows and arrows!? What the hell is going on? And how the hell did I get out here in the middle of some damned forest?_

I felt dizzy again and unsteady on my feet. Crouching down, I used the tip of the long knife to steady myself against the ground. Chestnut-hair started forward again, but I swung my gun on him and growled, "Stay right there, dammit."

He stopped moving, seeming confused by the gun, but also apparently recognizing it as a weapon. "Please, my lady. You are injured and confused. Allow me to help you and tend your wounds," he pleaded.

I quickly glanced down at my wound. Blood was still oozing and I knew it needed to be bandaged at least. I wasn't even sure where I was, let alone where else I might find help or medical attention. "Just you. The fairy stays the hell away from me," I told him.

"We have been known as the Fairy Folk, but I sense we are not the same as these fairies you speak of. I am an elf, Lady Lane, and I assure you I would never intend harm to a woman."

I glared over the shoulder of the chestnut haired man as he cautiously crouched in front of me. "Fairy, elf, whatever you wanna call yourself. Doesn't make any damn difference to me. I know better than to trust one word of your lying kind."

"Woman, neither I nor any other elf would so lie to another being. What right have _you _to spout such falsehoods," he angrily attested while stepping towards me.

Chestnut-hair put his hands up in a placating manner then gently pushed down on my shoulders when I tried to rise. He jabbered something to the fairy or elf—whatever he was—and the blond stopped his advance.

"Be watchful she does not break your nose or some other part of your body for your troubles, my friend," the blond spat, then turned on his heel and stalked into the forest.

Chestnut-hair chuckled. "I've never seen Legolas worked into quite a state." The name rang a bell, but the man in front of me was asking more questions before I could place it. "Would you please sit down and put your weapons away? How came you to be alone in these woods and so injured?"

"I have no idea how I got here. Last thing I remember we were in the basement of a brothel raiding the place and a young girl got scared and shot me. How I came to be here, I haven't a clue."

I sat with my legs crossed as I spoke and slipped my gun into my waistband at my back. The knife however, I kept laid out across my lap.

The man gestured to my arm. "May I look at your wound?"

"Knock yourself out." He stopped with his brow furrowed. "I mean, go ahead," I clarified.

"Your speech and many of your words are strange to my ears. Where do you hail from?"

"I live in Chicago." As I answered, I watched the rest of the strange group gather around the old man. He seemed to be speaking with them in hushed voices, but they were all keeping furtive eyes on me.

"I have not heard of this She-cog-o. What realm is this village a part of?"

I laughed at his pronunciation. "Chicago's in the great state of Illinois. Come on. Everyone's heard of Chicago."

He was trying to peer at the wound through the whole in my blouse sleeve, so I quickly started unbuttoning it down the front.

There were several gasps from the little group and Chestnut-hair seemed suddenly unable to look at me. But his hands reached out to gently still my own when I had only half the buttons undone.

"My lady, perhaps we should move to a more private area before I attend the wound."

I looked at his face and couldn't help but laugh. A guy who looked to be at least in his 30s, blushing and unable to meet my eyes because of my half-unbuttoned blouse.

"It's not a big deal. I've got a bra on. I haven't got anything I'm sure you haven't seen before."

His blush deepened but he didn't address what I'd said. Standing, he gestured over towards some thicker underbrush and where I could hear the soft sounds of trickling water.

I stood as well and followed him to a small stream where he removed strips of cloth from his bag. He gestured to a rock near where he knelt. "Please sit, Lady Lane."

"Just Lane. None of this 'Lady' crap."

"It is a strange name. One I have never heard, least not used as someone's name. Where does it come from?" he asked as he wet some cloth and began pulling out and arranging various herbs from his bag.

I carefully pulled just my right arm out of its sleeve and kept my blouse pulled up around my chest. Not that I had any modesty myself. If I'd had any to begin with, years in the Corp would have squashed it. The shirt was a dark blue, but the blood soaking the sleeve darkened it further and I knew from experience that I'd never get the stains out.

"Lane is short for Elaina. It means shining light in French," I finally answered. He used the damp cloth to begin wiping the blood away from my hand and up my arm to the wound. For the first time, I took a good look at the wound as he worked. The bullet had sliced through the inside of my upper arm, leaving a long gash spanning it. If it had been any further to the center of my arm, it would have been a straight penetrating wound, probably would have hit bone as well. The gash was deep and would need to be stitched, but it was nothing worse than I'd had before. Only muscle had been torn. Nothing that wouldn't heal well enough with a little time or would hinder the use of my arm or hand.

"So what's your name? You never said."

Startled, he looked up from his task to meet my eye. "Forgive me, you are quite correct. Your unusual appearance has made us all forgetful of our manners. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a ranger from the north. The others you will meet shortly," he answered with a dip of his head.

"Aragorn..." I trailed off, and then remembered, "and Legolas." Maybe it was shock from the blood loss, but I immediately broke into great rounds of laughter as I doubled forward over my knees. The man jumped backwards from me in surprise, but I couldn't stop. I laughed so hard that my chest and lungs began to burn and my breath started coming out in wheezes. I'd forgotten about the pain in my chest until now. The vest may have saved my life, but it had left my ribs badly bruised and perhaps even broken.

My laughter had finally stopped giving way to the wheezes and my coughs. I pulled my shirt away from my chest and saw the area over my heart was already turning a dark purple.

The man—Aragorn he claimed—hissed a breath through his teeth. "How did that happen, my lady?"

"Bullet from nearly point-blank range. At least the vest saved my life, pain in the ass though they normally are. And it's just Lane. Not lady anything." _I'm not a dog in some Disney movie._

"What is a bull-it? Your words are still very strange to me."

I waved it away, unsure what to think about all of this or whether to believe these people didn't seem to have a clue about anything modern.

He scooted closer and resumed cleaning the wound. "This wound needs to be stitched. Will you be able to withstand the pain of stitching the wound, my lad—Lane?"

"It's never been a problem. Stitch away."

Once again, he dug into his bag and came up with items for stitching the wound. He moved quickly and deliberately, though he was surprisingly gentle. His manner told me he had experience stitching wounds. The stitches were slightly larger than I would have used, but they were straight and evenly spaced. He kept glancing at me to see if I was in pain as he worked, but I urged him to continue.

Once he was done and had wrapped bandaging around the wound, he began to repack his supplies.

I finally broke the silence. "So what's your real name?"

He frowned and said, "I have already given you my name. I do not understand why you ask again. I am Aragorn though I have also been known as Estel."

I chuckled. "Yeah, and you and the rest of those guys are the Fellowship of the Ring. Come on, I don't give a shit about your little role-playing group. I've been shot and somehow ended up in the middle of some forest. I need to figure out where I am so I can get back to CPD before they fire my ass for disappearing in the middle of a raid."

The Aragorn-wannabe stood until he was towering over me. "How did you know of our Fellowship?" he whispered in a deadly voice.

I stood as well, not willing to let some crazy guy stand over me and attempt to intimidate me. My left hand still held the knife I'd acquired, but my right itched to grab my gun again. Unwilling to have things escalate again, I waited and calmly held my ground.

"I think the lady is a spy of dark purposes," the Legolas-wannabe said as he slid into our small clearing with bow in hand and an arrow knocked. It was held at ease, pointed at the ground. His nose and around his eyes were swollen and starting to turn a dark purple from where I'd broken his nose. I knew from experience that it was painful, but I didn't know what he was so bent out of shape about. If I'd put more force into the blow, I could have killed him; he should be thankful.

"Would the two of you knock this shit off and grow the hell up. Look, I appreciate you doing a stitch job on my arm, but I need to get to a real hospital and get real medical attention before an infection sets it."

"Tell us the truth," Wannabe-Legolas continued to growl. "Are you a spy sent against us for dark purposes?"

I fought a childish eye roll and lost. "Yeah, that's exactly why I'm here. My jewelry box just seemed so empty without a mythical ring of power."

I knew how fast fairies could move, but this one still surprised me, getting behind me, and wrenching my arms behind my back before I could react. But then again, maybe I was still shocky from the blood loss. He started shoving me forward until we'd entered another clearing now illuminated against the deepening evening by soft glow from a campfire.

"Mithrandir, what shall I do with this creature?" Wannabe-Legolas demanded.

I tried reasoning first. "You can get your goddamned hands off me, or I'll bust your fucking nose again, Goldilocks."

His grip tightened, and between my aching chest and my throbbing arm, I'd had enough. Kicking backwards with one leg I connected with his shin, then threw my head backwards trying to connect again with his face and nose as he leaned forward against the pain in his shin. He was quicker this time though and scrambled backwards while releasing me to avoid the blow. He'd somehow gotten ahold of the knife when he'd grabbed me, but I spun around to face him, once again drawing my gun on him.

"_Enough!" _an authoritarian voice rang out behind me. The old man stepped around me and away from the fire so I could see him as well. Goldilocks had drawn his bow again for our standoff.

"Put your bow away, Legolas. I do not believe she means us any harm. You can see by her dress and speech that the child is not of these lands. She is merely frightened."

"I'm not a fucking child and I'm sure as hell not frightened," I spat.

"Forgive me," the old man conceded with a dip of his head. Stepping closer, he laid a hand gently on my arm as he beseeched, "Please put your weapon away."

Power and magic unlike anything I'd ever felt before seemed to radiate from him and lick across my arm where he touched me. My hands dropped to my sides as I stepped back away from him. He had just looked like a normal old man. Ridiculously dressed of course.

"What are you?" I whispered staring at the gray-robed old man in shock.

His head tilted with curiosity. "I am a wizard," he answered simply and sincerely.

I felt my world spin, but forced myself to hold my ground. I glanced at the figures gathered around the fire. Reaching out to their minds, I was surprised that there weren't many thoughts in any language I could understand, but there was no feeling of deception. Not even from Goldilocks, who had lowered his bow when I lowered my gun.

"Hobbits, elves, and dwarves, oh my," I mumbled to myself. Was it really possible that I was somehow transported to a place that should have only existed in storybooks?

_Why's that really such a shock? Most people in my own world think fairies and other creatures only exist in fairytales. You know they actually exist and are far more akin to the dark fairytales of the Grimm Brothers. So this really shouldn't be a shock. _

The old man—Gandalf, I supposed—cleared his throat, interrupting my internal musings. "Perhaps you should sit and tell us how you came to be here so strangely clad and wounded," he suggested motioning towards the fire.

I made my way towards the fire where hobbits, men, a dwarf, and an elf were gathered around. "Definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto," I grumbled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I don't know if this is sad or funny, but this chapter comes to you typed entirely on my smart phone during various times I've had to sit around in waiting rooms etc. the last several days.

Merry early Christmas to everyone and Happy Holidays! Show me a little love and let me know what you think so far!


	3. Campfire Stories

**Chapter 3: Campfire Stories**

I started back towards the newly lit campfire. It was in roughly the same area where I had—woken?—or I guess found myself in. The other man by the fire, I suppose if I was buying into this whole Fellowship thing—and God help me, but I was—that would make him Boromir, was turning my vest over in his hands and examining it. I veered my path for his side of the fire.

"What do you think it is, Pip? It sure is heavy."

"Not sure, Merry. It's just metal isn't it? Not even sharp."

My eyes darted down at the two hobbits as I was walking behind them towards Boromir. One of the hobbits was shaking something much too large for his hands. My eyes widened in recognition and I swooped down over them to snatch my Glock away from the one now trying to hand it to the other.

"Jesus H Christ," I swore. "This isn't a toy! It's a weapon. A very dangerous one," I yelled at the hobbits.

They immediately shrunk away from me to huddle by the other hobbits.

I wasn't sure where my Glock had come from, but remembered that I'd still been holding the pistol when I'd been shot. I had probably dropped it on the ground when I was imitating a fish out of water trying to breathe.

I knew by the weight that it was still loaded and remembered that I hadn't even fired a shot at the warehouse. Once assured that the gun was undamaged and still unfired, I replaced it in my hip holster, thanking my lucky stars that they hadn't managed to accidentally fire the thing. I also took the time to put my .40 back in my ankle holster.

I looked up at the puzzled—and in the case of the hobbits, scared—expressions of everyone. "I'm sorry for yelling and scaring you guys," I apologized to the hobbits. "That's a very dangerous weapon where I'm from."

"And just where is it that you hail from, my lady?" Boromir curiously asked.

I jerked my head towards Aragorn. "I already told him, but I'll say it again. It's just Lane. Not 'lady' anything." I ran my left hand over my head and through the wisps of hair that had pulled out of my ponytail. "I live—lived, in Chicago. But I doubt that any of you have heard of that city."

Their blank stares were answer enough.

"Well shit," I muttered to myself.

Boromir's brow furrowed as he frowned. "Must you use such oaths? I may not recognize many of your words, but I recognize your tone. It is not befitting of a woman, whether you wish to be called a lady or not."

A feather could have knocked me over. A soldier dressing me down for my language? Who'd have thought? Marines had never been known for our sophistication. "I apologize," I sputtered. "Guess I've spent too many years as a Marine and then working with cops."

A puzzled look filled Boromir's face. "'Marine?'" he repeated, the word twisting funnily in his mouth.

I paused, trying to figure out how best to explain what a Marine was. I finally settled for simplicity. "Marines are part of a branch of my people's military. I was a soldier, I guess you'd say." The word tasted sour in my mouth. A Marine was a Marine. We weren't the Army to call ourselves soldiers, but it was easier to keep things simple for now.

Boromir looked skeptical. "You were a soldier?"

"What's a cop?" one of the hobbits added.

I could already see the whole "female soldier" shock setting in, so I decided to cut it off quick. "Yes, a soldier. My people learned that women can be just as deadly, if not deadlier," I answered with a grin. "Being in the military isn't for most women, I'll grant you, but we never forbid them from proving their worth in the ranks." _Discourage, dissuade, and downright make it difficult as hell, but not forbid. Not anymore at least. _

I turned towards the hobbits. "A cop is—" I trailed off, trying to dredge up memories of the couple of times I'd read _Lord of the Rings _several years ago. Did Middle Earth have anything like a police force? _How the hell am I going to explain this? _"Well, we protect and serve," I finished lamely.

"What do you protect? Whom do you serve?" Aragorn asked as he stepped near the fire with several skinned rabbits. One of the hobbits came forward with a pack and began pulling out pots and pans as he took the rabbits. _Probably Samwise, _I told myself.

I stared into the fire for a moment and then crossed my arms and picked at the drying blood on my sleeve as I thought. "Well, my city, Chicago, has rules and laws their citizens must live by, and when they don't, cops like me are trained to enforce the laws by arresting the offenders and bringing them before a judge where a group of their peers decide a punishment for their crime." I looked up at Aragorn again. "To answer your question, we protect the people. We serve the people."

"A noble calling, even for a woman," a deep voice rumbled. I glanced over to see the dwarf, Gimli, nod to me in appreciation. I decided to ignore the "even for a woman" part that had my hackles up. Things were different in this time and place where women were concerned.

"For the most part it is," I agreed.

"Gandalf, are we going to march again, all night?" the hobbit I was beginning to think was Pippin asked. He looked a bit younger than I'd expected, but then, I knew the hobbits were all older than the appearances I was used to.

Gandalf chuckled and took his pointed hat off as he sat near the fire and gestured for me to sit near him. I nodded and took his offer. "No young Peregrin. We shall not march more tonight. We made good time last night and will start early and push hard again tomorrow night. For tonight, I thought we could hear our guest's tale." He then proceeded to point around the fire and introduce the Fellowship. Minus an elf that is, who was still absent. Not that I minded.

I was startled by Gandalf's explanation to Pippin and finally remembered that in the book, they had traveled by night. "I don't want to mess up your plans or slow you down," I tried.

Gandalf shook his head. "We had traveled a fair distance when we got an early start this afternoon. We shall make up for lost time tomorrow night. It was of more importance to see to your health; you need a good meal and rest I would wager. Now, please tell us how you came to be so strangely clad this far south in Hollin."

I scratched my brain mentally, but couldn't recall any Hollin. But then, I'd always been more interested in the action sequences of books than in the details of any story.

I drew one knee up to my chest and wrapped my left arm around it as I started talking to the gathered group, what I was unbelievably starting to believe was the actual Fellowship of the Ring. I told them briefly about my job and then about the raid at the warehouse. It was unbelievable how many times I had to stop to explain various things and what my "strange" words meant. I glossed over what the warehouse we were raiding actually was, not wanting to explain what a brothel was. For all I knew, they didn't even exist in all of Middle Earth. Though somehow, I doubted it. It was the oldest profession after all.

Finally, I had gotten to the part where I'd come to in the middle of a forest with my breath knocked out.

"Your tale seems fantastical and farfetched, my lady—forgive me, Lane," Boromir commented, stroking his chin. "How are we to believe that you are truly from another place, even another world, as you claim, as vastly different from this as the one you describe?"

"You think I'm lying?" I asked, one brow raised.

"I did not say that. Merely that you might be mistaken after suffering an injury as you have," Boromir returned.

I felt the urge to rise and snap back at him in anger, but Gandalf placed a calming hand on my arm. I could feel his magic sizzling where he touched me and I was unnerved by the feeling. Now I fought the urge to jerk away from him instead. Gandalf seemed to sense it and slowly removed his hand.

Shaking my head to clear it, I turned back to Boromir and gestured to the vest lying forgotten near his feet. "Toss me that vest."

Grabbing it from the air after he'd thrown it, I laid it across my lap and pulled my jackknife from my pocket. Using it, I pried the bullet from the dented armor plate in the vest and held it up. "This was the bullet that girl shot me with." I held the mangled bullet up, and then tossed it to Boromir who examined it carefully with Aragorn leaning in to look as well. I pulled my Glock out again and removed the clip and a bullet from it as well. The calibers were different, but they'd get the idea. "This is what they look like before they're fired," I explained, tossing my bullet across to Aragorn. They leaned together to examine the two bullets while all the others, save for Gandalf and the still missing elf, gathered close as well. Even Sam stopped stirring the stew he'd been preparing as I talked to go look. "Obviously that bullet from my vest had to have been fired at an extraordinary speed and hit something quite solid to become so compacted and mangled."

"Your wound did seem unlike any I had seen before. It didn't seem made by arrow or blade," Aragorn admitted.

"What of her knowledge of our Fellowship?" Legolas suddenly asked. I jumped up in surprise, not even noticing when he'd come up behind me. I managed not to grab for my gun, but just barely. I edged partway around the fire, trying not to be too obvious about putting space between us.

Thinking quickly, I answered their curious looks, "Well, I know about it because in my world, your quest is an old tale, one known to many," I'd considered telling them it was a vision or something else, but decided to stick as close to the truth as possible.

Frodo spoke for the first time, suddenly looking hopeful. "Then you know how our journey shall end?"

I suddenly felt guilty and like I'd made the wrong choice. Raising their hopes hadn't been my intention. I should have thought of something else. "Yes, but I'm afraid there's nothing of what's to come that I can divulge."

I kept a close eye on Legolas. Elf or fairy, I was nervous by his very Fae-like appearance.

"Ooch, you can'na tell the future based on some story you were told as a child," Gimli scoffed.

I shrugged, hoping that maybe he was right. Just because I'd read those books once upon a time in my world, didn't mean that was what would happen in this world. I'd seen enough to know other worlds besides the one I'd known existed out there. The land of the Fairies for one, though I'd never traveled there or to any other world. Until now, that is. But a world where the events that were happening had been narrated as a completed story in another world? _That _seemed farfetched.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"But you knew of our fellowship? A secret fellowship." Gandalf reminded. "What do you know?"

I remembered something my mother's mother had cautioned. She had been an oracle of sorts—human, as far as I'd known. "Just because I might know something of what's to come, doesn't mean I should tell others. People don't do well knowing what's going to happen." It had driven my grandmother crazy. I felt a sad smile tug at my lips. "I was told once that if you knew you might step out the door and get hurt, you would probably just stay home and try to be safe. But fate was just as likely to strike you dead for messing with it." I shrugged. "Seems safer not to fool around with."

"Perhaps very wise words," Gandalf agreed, looking thoughtful.

"So we're just supposed to take your word on how you know these things?" Gimli pressed.

"Do you really think if I'd learned what I know by evil means or that I'd had nefarious intentions I'd have hung around here wounded and then told you that I know anything at all about your fellowship?" I asked picking at the dried blood on my shirt again.

"It would seem to me that if the lady truly had ill intentions she would have devised a more plausible story than this," Boromir kindly suggested.

"Thanks. I think," I replied with a frown.

Sam had started passing out plates of stew. When he got to me, he stopped and looked at where I'd been picking blood from my stained shirt. "Begging your pardon misses, but I think I can find you an extra shirt in one of the packs that wouldn't be too awful large."

I smiled gratefully as I took my plate. "That would be wonderful, Master Gamgee."

He blushed and quickly turned to go to where the packs were piled.

When he came back a few minutes later with some cloth in a bundle, I was just finishing my plate of stew. I handed it back to him saying, "Thanks, that was delicious."

"You're finished a'ready?" Sam asked, clearly shocked.

Now it was my turn to blush a little. "Sorry, you're taught to eat fast if you want a meal at all in the military. Never know when the next one's coming," I told him as I took the bundle of clothes from him.

Boromir laughed as he finished his own plate. "It is ever the same in Gondor. Perhaps you were a soldier after all."

"Sounds awful," Pippin muttered to himself.

I forced a smile and opened the bundle Sam brought. There was a shirt wrapped up in a heavy cloak.

"It gets mighty cold at night; figured you'd like a nice cloak to keep warm, though it'd be warmer if we had another fur lined one like the ones what Mister Elrond gave to us." He looked sheepish, "You're right welcome to use mine if you'd like."

Sam's would obviously be small for me, but the two men both started to voice offers of their own cloaks. I cut them off. "It's no problem, guys. This one's more than enough. I've lived in climates colder than this and Chicago can definitely get colder than this in the winter."

I stood with my bundle to go change and was shocked motionless when they all stood as well. Although Merry had to nudge Pippin.

"You guys really don't have to do that," I told them, my cheeks tingeing with embarrassment. They all started to protest but I stopped them. "Look, as long as I'm still wearing pants, stop the whole 'lady' treatment." I turned away muttering, "I've never seen men jump to their feet so fast just because I stood up. You'd think they were a bunch of buck privates and someone had yelled mail call."

There were a few muffled laughs as I made my way back towards the stream from earlier. The shirt looked like it would be a little big, but I was grateful to get out of my ruined shirt and into a clean one. After I had cleaned up a bit again and changed into the white linen shirt, I remained kneeling by the stream. I was surprised by the ease with which I was accepting this turn of events. True, I'd never lived a quiet, altogether human life, but shouldn't I be more upset about ending up in some strange world?

But I realized as I knelt by the stream, that I'd never been so relaxed before. It was normally a constant struggle to keep other people's thoughts out of my head so I didn't go crazy. Here, it was effortless. Perhaps it was so easy here because there were only a handful of thoughts to contend with for miles and miles. I couldn't say. I almost dared to think that here I could live without the constant fear that people would be freaked out by me and think I was crazy because I slipped up and heard their thoughts. I'd had enough of that as a child.

_They think you know the future! Yeah, not crazy at all! _I laughed aloud. Okay, maybe I'd never have a chance at a normal, boring life.

I got up and started back towards the campsite. The tall lithe figure leaning against the tree startled me enough that I'd half drawn my handgun before I realized it was Legolas watching me.

He raised placating hands. "Forgive me; I did not intend to startle you. None should wander alone in these dark times."

I forced myself to replace my gun and breathe. I was really getting sick of being startled all the time. "It's fine," I told him, edging away from him and towards the others.

"Why are you so frightened of me? What are these fairies that you fear?" he quietly asked.

There was only faint bruising around his eyes and nose now. Elves apparently healed very quickly. Just like fairies.

"You're not still pissed off at me for busting your nose, are you?" I asked instead of answering his questions.

He was momentarily confused but seemed to guess at my words. "Nay, and I apologize for reacting so poorly before. I am afraid it has been some time since I have felt the bite of a broken nose."

I nodded and edged nearer to the low light of the fire.

"Fairies must be creatures wholly unlike elves," he observed.

"I don't know any elves."

"But these fairies must not be good creatures," he continued to comment.

"No."

I started to turn away, but a hand lightly grabbed my elbow.

I shoved his hand away and hissed, "Don't touch me."

He looked startled but removed his hand and stepped back. "I am not one of those creatures. I mean you no harm."

"Just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."

He looked at me blankly then tilted his head down towards me as he said, "I have apologized to you for my behavior. Yet you have not returned the favor and apologized for breaking my nose. Whether you will speak of it or not, these fairies have done you harm. But please do not judge me or all elves by some race foreign to this world, Elaina." And then he turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the tree line.

I returned to the dying fire in stunned silence. I mutely nodded when Aragorn said I should get some rest. Drawing my borrowed cloak around myself, I sat propped against a nearby tree and closed my eyes.

I doubted I'd sleep much, I rarely did anymore, but I had a lot of things to think about. But I kept turning over in my mind, how he'd known my full name. I'd only told Aragorn.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas!


	4. When I Know I'm Wrong

**Chapter 4: When I Know I'm Wrong**

I sat against the tree, wrapped up in my borrowed cloak for a long time before I finally drifted to sleep. The sounds of Boromir's knife whittling a piece of wood and Aragorn softly singing something in another language finally lulled my mind into sleep.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep, but I jerked awake with a racing heart. Wisps of my dream were still there, but by the time I'd fully woken, I couldn't remember any longer what my dream had been.

Remembering wasn't necessary. It was usually one of a couple of different dreams.

With a weary exhale, I silently stood and walked to the edge of the clearing where Gandalf was still quietly smoking a pipe. He was propped against a log, and barely seemed to be moving. The occasional puffs of smoke were the only signs he wasn't either asleep or a statue.

I sat beside him and dug into my pocket. "Mind if I smoke, too?" I asked him in a low voice.

He looked startled but said no and started to offer me his pipe.

I opened my cigar case and pulled a cigarillo out. After I had it lit with my trusty Zippo, I smiled faintly at Gandalf's astonished expression. "I told you, my world is very different."

We both smoked for a while in silence before I commented. "I've quit at least a dozen times. Bad for your health. But I still always keep an emergency supply of my favorite honey-flavored cigarillos on hand." I gestured around, "Ending up in a strange world certainly seemed like an acceptable reason to pull out the emergency stash."

"Your world certainly seems vastly different from this," Gandalf commented.

I glanced at his staff and then thought of the swords, bows, and arrows the men and elf carried. This world was on the verge of a great war beginning. I'd seen and fought in my fair share of warfare in my own world and felt confident and proficient there. But here? What use was my knowledge of rifles and other modern weaponry? I suddenly felt damn useless.

I'd never fired a bow or swung a sword. Fairies may have preferred those kinds of weapons, but I learned to do my damnedest to stay as far from them as possible.

What the hell was I supposed to do here?

I removed my cigarillo and turned to Gandalf. "You're a wizard, right? You've got magic. Can you send me home?"

I held my breath as I waited. He smiled sympathetically. "No. Such a task is not within my power, nor of any other I know."

My breath came out in a dejected sigh. "So what? I'm stuck here?"

"Without knowing the specific curse and sort of magic this old woman you spoke of used, I cannot think of a way to send you back. I would not have dreamed it possible to send beings across the stars to another world in the first. I am sorry; I know that is not the answer you had hoped for."

"What about Galadriel?" I countered. "Would she know?"

He chewed the stem of his pipe thoughtfully. "I could not rule such a thing out. The Lady Galadriel is said to see and know many great things." He turned his head to look me in the eye. Suddenly, as he spoke, he wasn't the wielder of an unnerving force of magic. He was simply a kindly old man. His gray eyes and long, frizzy gray hair and beard only served to deepen the image of the loving grandfather. "Do not get your hopes up, my dear. I fear you may be long bound for this world and that no force may be found to send you back again."

I jerked a nod as I suddenly had trouble breathing. "Thank you for speaking with me," I whispered as I crushed the end of my cigarillo and stood. I knew I wouldn't sleep again so soon, but I needed some time alone.

Quietly picking my way back across camp, I stooped next to Boromir's prone form for a moment to snatch the piece of wood he'd been whittling. He hadn't been carving anything in particular and I needed something to do with my hands. I continued across the clearing, stopping near a large tree directly across from where I'd been sitting with Gandalf.

After leaning against the oak for a moment, I realized I wasn't alone. Glancing to my left, I saw Legolas perhaps thirty feet away. He was likewise leaning against a tree.

I thought I'd done a better job of masking my surprise, but apparently not well enough. "Forgive me for once again startling you," his melodious voice whispered. It was just another item to add to the list of similarities between elves and fairies.

"Do you always have to just pop up out of nowhere," my voice hissed before I could censor my words.

His features never changed and he remained facing towards the forest, leaving his body and face in profile to me.

"I am sorry you cannot return to your home," he spoke, never moving or turning.

"You don't know that I can't. There's got to be a way. I got here. There has to be a way back," I told him angrily. "And stop eavesdropping on conversations that don't involve you. It's just like the goddamned fairies, thinking they have the right to intrude on a lowly mortal's privacy."

He glanced at me and his head tilted as he studied me. "I wonder if these fairies you speak of are actually so terrible, or if you hate all races you do not know."

I stepped backwards in surprise. But it was short-lived and my righteous anger returned. Striding to stand in front of him I ground out, "You don't know anything about me. When I talk about fairies and say I hate them—and I do—it isn't because of some stupid notion that they're different from me. I _know _them. I am_ part_ of them. My father is a half-breed fairy and I'm his mongrel, bastard offspring. He considered killing me every day because I was worthless to him. No discernible magic and no worthwhile traits. When I realized he had actually decided I _wasn't _worth allowing to live anymore, I left before he could carry out killing me. I was ten years old. From that moment on, I took care of myself. When I grew up, I realized I had to avoid fairies for a whole 'nother reason. Male fairies like to find and keep a few partial-blooded fairy/human mongrels like me on hand. You see, most pureblood fairy women have become sterile over the past centuries, so they try to find human women with some fairy blood like me to steal and take to their lands for procreation. I've seen them kill and steal women to force into that kind of servitude. Most of them don't come to my world that often anymore, but when they do, I stay the hell away from them. So don't tell me that I hate them without knowing them. I know them."

His face paled as I spoke and he once again wore that horrified expression.

My right hand angrily ran over my hair as I swore to myself. My arm throbbed painfully at the action, but I ignored it. I was pissed for letting myself ramble on like that.

"Elaina, you must realize that neither I, nor any elf, could ever commit such behavior. You are judging myself and my race for actions abhorrent to my kind. How is it fair that you so judge me and loath so much as the sight of me?" he urgently whispered, pressing a graceful hand over his heart.

I knew in my own heart that he was right and it wasn't fair, but as he spoke honestly with me, I could do no less for him. I closed my eyes and answered. "How can I not loath the very sight of you when one glance is all it takes to reduce me to that pitiful girl who hid from her father. One glance and I am reminded instantly of one of the few things I still fear. Once glance and I'm left with nothing but that weakness. I've worked too long and too hard to allow myself to be that pathetic little girl again. But one glance, and you remind me that deep down, I still am."

I couldn't bear to look up at him again, so I turned away to find my own secluded place to be alone.

Years in the Marines had taught me how to shut my mind down and act without thinking. So I sat against a tree and began to carve on the piece of wood still clutched in my hand. I forced my mind into silence and watched absently as my hands made the wood take shape. I worked until the sun had been well up and the increased sounds nearby told me that the others were stirring.

In my hands was now a carved image of a child, happy and smiling. Just like how I'd always dreamed of growing up. But I knew better than to wish for a changed past. The impossible was never good to dwell on, so I dropped the figure, and made my way back towards camp.

* * *

><p>Mindless carving may not have produced anything tangible to keep, but it had allowed me to shake off my melancholy. I studiously avoided looking at or going near the elf, and by an unspoken agreement, he seemed to be returning the favor.<p>

It was near noon when everyone was awake and a meal was made. Merry and Pippin argued over whether it was breakfast or lunch and complained about the lack of the proper number of meals on their voyage.

Gandalf only laughed, "Do not complain so, young Pippin. In place of your extra meals you received extra sleep last night."

"Yeah, but we're going to make up for it today and tonight," he grumbled quietly.

I once again quickly and quietly devoured the meal Sam handed to me and gave my plate back to him. Since I was an unexpected addition on this journey, it was a good thing I ate quickly since Sam and I were sharing a plate.

While the others were finishing their meals, I quietly excused myself to return to the nearby stream for a drink and to splash water on my face.

Unlike with the elf, I heard Aragorn quietly approach from behind me.

When I glanced over my shoulder, he gestured to me and said, "I should like to examine your wound again before we begin our journey today."

I shrugged and carefully repeated yesterday's actions of pulling just one arm out of my shirt while still holding it up around my chest. It was much easier since my borrowed shirt was somewhat baggy on my.

Aragorn carefully removed the bandage and examined the wound. It hadn't continued to bleed around the stitches and the paste concoction he'd made and spread on it was still there. There didn't appear to be any redness or swelling, so perhaps the paste was doing its job to prevent infection after all, despite my previous doubts.

After he had rewrapped my arm and I'd pulled my shirt back in place, I asked, "You don't happen to have any toothpaste, do you?"

Aragorn looked surprised for a moment and then pulled out a small jar. Laughing he said, "Yes, I have tooth cleaning powder, and though it is used by elves, not many of the race of man know its benefits."

He proceeded to show me how it created a paste when he dipped his dampened small brush with coarse bristles into the powder. "I fear I have not an extra brush, however," he added apologetically.

I shook my head before he could try to offer me his toothbrush and poured a small amount of powder into my hand and created a paste using my finger. "No matter. Doesn't work quite as well, but I've used my finger to scrub my teeth before."

Looking Aragorn over as I scrubbed my teeth and he did likewise, I was glad to see that he was more fastidious than what I'd somehow imagined. True, he looked travel worn, but who didn't? His face and hands were clean, and his beard—no boyish dusting of whiskers—was slightly unkempt, in need of a trim. But that too was to be expected. Boromir's held the same appearance.

Even Aragorn's clothes were fairly clean, though well worn.

When we were done, we both stood and walked back towards the others. The hobbits and Boromir passed by us on the way to the stream. I was surprised to see that nearly all the supplies had been repacked and placed onto their pony.

"How are you feeling today? Well enough for travel?" Aragorn asked.

"You assume I'm going with you."

He stared at me in shock. "Certainly you shall accompany us. We cannot leave you here, alone and unprotected."

I felt myself smile at his words. Though there had been the initial question of whether I had been a spy, it had only been considered halfheartedly for a moment. Because I was a woman, I was assumed no threat and indeed, it was assumed that they now were responsible for protecting me.

A small laugh escaped as I answered, "Fine. I'll go with you, but I can look after myself." Remembering that none of them would know at this point exactly, where their journey would take them, I added, "I'll go with you until my path must turn for Lothlórien. I'm still determined to see if I can find someone who can send me back to my world again."

He looked surprised but commented, "We shall decide when the time comes."

* * *

><p>By the time evening was nearly gone, I was almost as tired as the hobbits, and thoroughly disgusted with myself for my exhaustion. I couldn't possibly be in such poor shape that a leisurely hike like the one we'd taken should have taken such a toll on me.<p>

In the Marines, I'd marched much further, far faster, _and _done it while toting a seventy-five pound pack. _But you lost a bit of blood yesterday; it'll take a few days to get back to full strength, _I reminded myself. It was a poor consolation though.

I'd never liked being seen as the weak woman. In the Marines, I used to strive to do any of the fitness exercises just like the other men did, and I'd practiced until I could beat most of them, too. I hated the thought that the civilian life—even as a cop—was making me soft. Still, I knew that in a few days, I'd likely have all my strength back. I'd just never been good at patience.

It also annoyed me that the two men in particular seemed to hover ever near me on the march with their periodic questions of whether or not I was all right. It was a constant struggle to remind myself that this was a different world and woman were viewed differently here. And that it wasn't their fault.

After the quiet meal, the hobbits laid out their beds and quickly fell asleep. Gandalf once again sat off by himself, smoking in quiet contemplation. The sun was just rising, but I wasn't quite ready for sleep, even if my body was exhausted. I offered to take the first watch, and when the men started arguing against a woman needing to do such a thing, I simply turned on my heel and walked to the edge of camp, silently taking on my self-appointed task.

Behind me, I heard Aragorn assign Legolas to take the watch with me. I didn't hear his response, but this time, when I listened very carefully, I heard the softest rustling of leaves as the elf walked closer to me.

He kept a modest distance between us when he drew even with me. I didn't think he was going to break the silence, but he finally did. "I am sorry if my presence upsets you. I am only doing my duty," he quietly spoke, never looking my way.

Still, I jerked a nod and the silence resumed. Eventually, I moved to sit Indian style on a rock slightly behind me. My new vantage also put the elf further into my peripheral sight.

I thought about our journey through the afternoon and all through the night. The hobbits, Merry and Pippin, had been particularly friendly with me, always asking questions about the world I came from and things like if women always dressed as men there. Even when they began to tire, their questions had never ceased. When I had grown weary of speaking and trying to decide how best to phrase my answers, Frodo had deftly changed topics and kindly gotten the other hobbits to start telling tales of the Shire and their own adventures there. I could tell from his wistful expression that Frodo very much wanted to return to his home and was surprised at the sheer determination it must have taken to volunteer for such a quest.

I glanced at the elf again. All the while, as I walked and chatted with the hobbits, and eventually even Gimli, Legolas had been nearby. Sometimes scouting ahead of the group, and sometimes falling back to bring up the rear. But always, he kept a distance between us. Purely for my sake, I realized when I caught his fond smile at the laughing hobbits as he walked around us to scout ahead again during the night.

I had reached out to his thoughts in particular many times throughout our march, and though his language was still a mystery to me, I couldn't find a hint of darkness in his mind or thoughts. Only a sad kind of acceptance.

And I realized, he enjoyed the kind laughter of the hobbits, but he had avoided them in deference to me. For my sake.

And now, he sat silently, keeping a careful distance between us, once again, for my sake.

I continued to study him, noting that physically, I couldn't mark a single difference in his form and that of the Fae. It was easy to look at him and see my grandfather's kindred. To see my father. My father was half-blood, but he'd looked so much like a pureblood.

As a child, I'd feared and cowered from him. I grew up thinking his cruelty was just his own nature, but after I'd grown, I'd come to learn that most fairies were cruel and self-serving. True, my father had been darker even than many of the Fae, but overall, the acceptable and expected behavior of their kind would have shocked most humans.

But after I had run away from my father, I had come across fairies only a few times. I had lived wholly amongst humans for most of my life now. So why did I still let my fear of the Fae grip me so tightly?

Legolas may have looked like the fairies I had known, but I knew I was being an ass to treat him so poorly when he had been quite kind to me. Well—at least after his initial anger over me breaking his nose. Even then, _he'd _apologized to _me. _

_Yup, I'm an ass. _

"I _am _sorry," I suddenly told him.

He looked startled and glanced back at me. "I beg your pardon?"

"For breaking your nose," I clarified. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where I was and you startled me when I was already feeling vulnerable because I was wounded. I don't normally go around breaking people's noses when I meet them."

He continued looking at me like I'd grown a horn out of my forehead, so I continued, "I just wanted to tell you I was sorry. I should have said it sooner."

He shook his head. "Nay, it was not fair of me to demand an apology from you. I understand that my presence and appearance is difficult for you to bear," he apologized.

I let out a disgusted snort. "And enough of that. I was way out of line saying what I did to you and making demands like that. It's not fair and it sure as hell isn't your fault that elves look like fairies. I can't blame you for that or keep expecting that based solely on those appearances, that you're anything like a fairy. Especially when your every action proves that you're not." I had started looking down guiltily as I spoke, but I forced myself to meet his eyes as I finished. "When I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong. So, I'm sorry for what I said to you, too."

More time had passed than I realized, I heard Aragorn stirring to come relieve our watch. I stood and started back towards him and camp.

"Elaina," Legolas called softly. I stopped and turned towards the elf again. "I am sorry as well that my presence causes you pain. It grieves me to know this."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault, and my father's memory only holds power over me if I let it. And I don't want it to." I continued back into camp, silently passing Aragorn.

Legolas made no move to follow me.

I lay down near the hobbits. Sam had insisted I take his blanket to use as a pallet, saying his cloak was warm enough for him. But I was gladdened to see that Frodo had scooted closer to his dear friend to share his own blanket. My eyes studied the blue sky and the clouds for a time before they finally shut. I for one was glad to be marching by night and sleeping by day. My dreams held less terror for me when I knew I would open my eyes to sunlight instead of the darkness of night that brought back the memories of other dark places.

It was easier to keep my mind occupied with marching through the darkness of night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks to everyone for reviewing. I love hearing what you guys are thinking, and like all writers, it keeps me going.

So thanks again, and Happy New Years!


	5. The Comfort of a Friend

**Chapter 5: The Comfort of a Friend**

The next several days and nights carried on in much the same pattern. We all started to fall into a comfortable routine. Almost too comfortable.

Intellectually, I understood why a group of all males in this kind of culture had such a hard time allowing a "lady" to perform tasks of a physical nature, but the feminist in me itched at them constantly trying to do things for me.

I began to realize what a fine line the women of my own world had expected our men to walk. We wanted to be able to perform certain tasks for ourselves to feel our own self-worth, but God help the man too rude to open a door for a woman. Being here where the men were taught from childhood to protect and do for their women was an eye-opener to how much my own culture had progressed. I just wasn't sure if the men here would say it was for the better. Maybe not even the women.

It wasn't that Boromir and Aragorn didn't think I could handle certain tasks—I'd proven to them I could march as far as them and take my share of the watches too—but it was a matter of honor that drove them to be so unsettled with _allowing _me to take on those tasks.

After arguing with the two men about taking my turn at watch duty for the umpteenth time, I'd finally gotten frustrated and told them both to stop thinking of me as a damned woman and to think of me as just another guy. Aragorn had laughed and finally walked away (seemingly anyway) deciding to give up on arguing with me. His people, the Dúnedain, were a wandering people, more used to their women having to perform some of the heavier duties.

Boromir was tougher. His upbringing was more rigid, making it much harder for him to treat any woman as though they were a man. _They're both honorable men. You just have to keep reminding yourself of that. _

Ironically, I hadn't had to have the same arguments with Legolas or even Gimli. Gimli had laughed and said that though their females were very few in numbers, they did not stand much for coddling either. And Legolas—Legolas was still very careful to keep a certain distance between us, and he certainly avoided anything that might cause an argument.

The two men, Gimli, and Gandalf, took turns pairing with one of the hobbits when taking watches, leaving me to be paired with Legolas each day for our turn.

Regardless of my apologizing to Legolas for telling him to stay away from me and being so rude to him, he continued to keep a modest distance. At least at first.

Each day during our watch, he would stand ever so slightly closer to me. And it irked me to know deep down, it was exactly what I needed. Bit by bit, I grew used to his presence, until he could stand by my side and we could quietly chat. At first just about generalities, and what the hobbits had said or done that day. But eventually we began to speak about our lives and our worlds. He reminded me so much of Mike at times. Mike had known not to try touching me in the beginning of our partnership too. He'd known I'd been damaged by something from my time in the Marines, but he'd been patient, waiting for me to trust him, and eventually, he'd become my closest friend.

Of all the Fellowship, Legolas was the least unnerved when I asked about something or someone in their past that they hadn't yet spoken of. I wasn't certain if it was elves who were more open to that strangeness, or if it was Legolas in particular. He'd looked startled when I asked what it was like to grow up as a prince, but he hadn't hesitated in answering me.

It almost amazed me to realize we had somehow formed an uneasy friendship. He was still careful not to approach me if I might not see or hear him coming, and our conversations hadn't gotten much more in-depth than some basics of each other's pasts. Still, it was a start.

More than that, I felt like piece by piece, I was burying that old childish fear of my father. That old nightmare that he'd find me and take me to Tar-Na-Leigh or find me and just kill me outright. It had been years since I'd seen or even heard of him. So why had I let my fear of him in particular grow so strong?

Legolas had even begun teaching me bits of Sindarin, a language that he explained was only one of many that elves of this world spoke. I couldn't piece together a sentence to save my life, but I could count to twenty and name some animals and plants. Mostly I had wanted to learn the language to know what he and Aragorn were always whispering to each other about.

And strangely enough, I found myself wanting to understand what he was thinking. Sometimes I could piece things together, especially when his thoughts were more visual, but overall, his thoughts seemed to be more word based than anyone I'd known. It was a strange turn of events after a lifetime of wishing I didn't have to hear the nasty thoughts of others, to suddenly _want _to hear more of what someone was thinking.

_Maybe men were right and women just can't ever make up their minds, _I half-jokingly thought to myself.

I woke that afternoon nearing somewhere around three hours after noon. I'd taken to sleeping near the edge of camp each day, and on whatever side was the opposite from Frodo.

"You are already awake," Boromir commented in disappointment. Just as he did every day when it was my turn for watch.

"Yeah, I've always had a great internal clock when it comes to needing to be up at a certain time. Plus, I'm a pretty light sleeper, so I usually hear when you guys come back to camp," I whispered with a grin, stretching my arms as I sat up. My internal clock came in very handy when dealing with Boromir. If he'd had things his way, he'd have never woken me for a watch.

I couldn't resist tousling Pippin's hair as he walked by, though his only response was a muffled goodnight. But it was Boromir I was more concerned about. I could see Legolas already walking away to begin our watch, but I detoured to crouch next to Boromir as he lay down and fussed with his blanket.

"You doing all right?"

He glanced up at me and at the reduced distance, I could now see the dark circles under his eyes were even worse. "I am fine," he tried to assure me.

"Bull—I mean, no, you're not. You're not sleeping well. I'm worried about you," I told him, just catching myself to keep from swearing.

His gaze cleared and softened just a bit as he looked up at me. "Says the woman whose sleep is just as troubled."

I didn't bother arguing. It had been years since I'd slept well. Sometimes, I wondered if I ever had. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. You're not. You look like a raccoon with those circles under your eyes. What's going on?"

His eyes involuntarily jerked towards Frodo. I was certain he was going to refuse answering, but he gave a deep sigh and said, "When I try to close my eyes, I see my city. I see it burning. I see my city and its people falling and I know it is because I have failed them. Failed to protect them."

I drew small designs in the dirt between us as I considered his words. "That's a lot of responsibility for one man to take onto himself," I finally commented. Looking back up at him, I added, "You can't expect to singlehandedly take on all the forces of Mordor to protect Gondor."

"I am the son of the Steward, it is my responsibility to ensure that the city never fails," he attested.

"Yeah, but you don't have to do it alone. You've got a brother to help you, and a lot of well-seasoned soldiers." I jerked my head towards where Aragorn lay, "Plus you've got Aragorn to fight beside you. He promised to return to the White City with you."

His gaze softened again, "Yes, the Dúnadan. He is an honorable man, I think."

"I think you both are," I assured.

He glanced more lingeringly at Frodo. "Still, I wonder if it shall be enough." He turned to look back at me questioningly.

I knew what he wanted. "You know I can't answer that." I clapped a hand on his shoulder as I changed the subject. "Try to get some sleep. Those dark circles under your eyes don't become you. And remember, you're not alone."

He chuckled and lightly touched my cheek. "As the red does not become your features."

As he touched my cheek, I noticed the tightness of my skin and realized that the shade I'd fallen asleep in had obviously moved as I slept. I grunted and answered, "No, it never does."

I got up and started towards where Legolas waited. He stood stoically, just as he always did. And as I was beginning to think only an elf could. I hopped onto the rock he stood beside and crossed my legs.

"The ring has begun to breach his mind and torment him," Legolas commented.

It was the first time since I'd initially joined them, that the ring had really been mentioned.

"Yes," I answered simply. I remembered the glimpses of Boromir's dreams that I'd seen in my own mind before I'd started sleeping further from Frodo and the Ring. "It tries to convince him that he could use the Ring to protect his city. It twists his love of country to its own uses."

He turned and looked at me, "You sleep with as much distance between you and Frodo as you can."

I answered truthfully, knowing he'd never interpret my words literally, "I hate seeing what the ring is doing to Boromir. He's a good man."

"His love of country is his weakness."

"Can you blame him?" I asked incredulously. "What if it was whispering in your mind that you could take it and protect Mirkwood from the spiders and the issue of Dol Guldur?" His gaze darkened. "Or has it already?" I added.

"Yes," he answered. "But like most of the others, I ignore its lies. A thing of evil cannot be used for good." He looked at me curiously. "Has it spoken to you?"

I shook my head. "No. And coward that I am, it's part of the reason I've begun keeping my distance from Frodo. I see how it's eating at Boromir, and I don't want to find out if I can withstand that."

"'Tis not cowardice to remove oneself from the gaze of evil."

He looked at me again, puzzled. "Why has your face become so reddened?"

"It's a sunburn, Legolas," I laughed. "Tons of women in my world may have dyed their hair red artificially, but at least most of them don't have the pasty skin and freckles to go with it. They have no idea what a bitch it is. I'd love to be able to tan like other women do. It was hell when I was stationed in the desert in the Middle East."

I studied his own pale skin, unmarred by such a burn, and wondered. "You wouldn't happen to have sunblock, would you?" At his confused look I continued, "You know, something to keep your skin from getting burned by the sun?"

"Ahh, I have seen this condition amongst mortals before. Elf-kind does not suffer from such maladies. But I think I know something to ease your burn. Come," he commanded, offering his hand to me to help me down.

I only hesitated slightly before taking his hand and jumping off my perch. But his hand stayed wrapped around mine as he led me through the rocky ground and scrubby underbrush growing around the area.

It was a friendly gesture, meant to help guide me along behind him, but I felt uncomfortable by it. In my world, it was perfectly acceptable and quite common to sleep with people you didn't even know. And I was certainly no blushing virgin, but somehow, the simple act of him holding my hand felt more intimate and left me feeling more exposed than the times I'd been completely naked with a man.

Had I even ever held a man's hand like this before? Or hell, been close enough to another woman that we'd held hands as friends? I couldn't think of a single time.

I knew to Legolas it was a simple, friendly gesture, so what did it say about my culture that this felt more intimate than sex with any man ever had?

I continued to follow Legolas, but pretended to steady myself against a rock, gently pulling my hand from his to mime the action before pushing away and following him. He glanced at me in surprise, but kept going.

"Ahh, here it is," he said crouching and removing his long knife. He used it to carefully cut away part of a leafy looking plant. Turning to me, he began breaking and squeezing a milky substance from the leaves. "Hold still and shut your eyes," he commanded.

I smiled faintly at his order, but did so. I could feel his fingers carefully spreading the substance over my skin, and I had to admit, it did feel good. It felt nice and cool on my heated flesh, and it seemed to take the tightness out of my skin too.

"Thanks," I told him when he was finished.

"You are most welcome," he smiled. He put more of the leaves into the pouch at his belt, saying, "You might need to apply it to your skin again when we stop again tomorrow. I don't know how long it will take to heal this 'sunburn' you mortals suffer from."

I laughed, "Not all mortals. Just us fair skinned ones. Us redheads are especially susceptible."

He reached out and pulled my braided hair over my shoulder. I had let it grow longer than I normally kept it when I'd been a Marine, but it still only swept the bottom of my shoulder blades. I was sure in this world it seemed woefully short for a woman.

"There are some elves that are born with red hair, but I have never seen so dark a shade. At times, it seems merely brown, at others, it shines red in the sunlight, and still others, I am certain there are strands of gold. Is it a common hair color in your world?"

I laughed. "Well, not naturally. Red hair is pretty rare, especially the darker auburn shade of mine, but a lot of women dye their hair to achieve the color too. But most of my mother's family had nearly the same dark auburn hair as me, so it's not too special in my family."

"You have never spoken of your mother nor her family," he carefully commented.

"She killed herself when I was a little over two, and I really never spent that much time with her side of the family afterwards. Not much to talk about there, I guess," I answered shortly.

He nodded and didn't press further.

We had just started back when Legolas went stone-still. His gaze was fixed on the south where a dark cloud seemed to hang.

"What is it?" I whispered to him.

I studied the cloud then too, and realized it was moving too fast, and in our direction. Suddenly I realized it was a great host of birds that wheeled and circled, looking for something.

As a group broke off from the others and turned towards us, Legolas grabbed my hand and pulled me down below some low underbrush. I pushed myself flat against a rock in the shade of the brush as Legolas braced his arms around me and pressed close to hide in the shade as well, our chests brushing with our closeness. We both looked upwards to see large black birds flying overhead. They were larger even than crows, and the feeling of menace permeated the air around them.

I suppressed a shiver at their proximity, and felt Legolas do the same. I wondered what I could do, and realized how unprepared I was for this world. I had my guns, but what would happen when I ran out of bullets. I vowed then to have one of the men begin showing me how to swing a sword.

When the birds had finally passed, Legolas grasped my hand again and pulled me along towards the others. After the cold, menacing feeling left in the wake of those—things—I didn't attempt to pull away from him. We saw in the distance Aragorn and Sam making their way back towards the others. We must have been gone from the others longer than I realized if they had begun their watch already.

We jogged up to them as Aragorn was speaking to Gandalf, "—Hollin is no longer wholesome for us: it is being watched."

"And in that case so is the Redhorn Gate," Gandalf answered, "and how we can get over that without being seen, I cannot imagine. But we will think of that when we must. As for moving as soon as it is dark, I am afraid that you are right."

"Luckily our fire made little smoke, and had burned low before the _crebain _came," Aragorn commented. "It must be put out and not lit again."

No comment was made about where Legolas and I had been, but we both crouched side-by-side in the shade of a bush. Sam and Aragorn returned to their watch, and though the others all remained lounging in whatever shadows they could find, it was an uneasy rest. Those same large birds—crebain—continued to fly and circle overhead periodically. Everyone remained quiet and somber.

We started our trek again that night, but the heavy silence still hung in the air. For the first time, Legolas walked close by my side instead of roving both in front and behind our group. When a dark shape flew overhead again, momentarily blocking out the moonlight, only Frodo, Aragorn, and Gandalf commented on it and what that great shadow might be.

But both Legolas and I stopped and flinched away from its sharp menace. We glanced at each other, both knowing that we felt that darkness more severely than any of the others. I wasn't sure if I felt it so acutely because of my mixed heritage or my telepathy, but it was somehow comforting to know I wasn't the only one who sensed it.

His hand found mine again, and I started to pull away from the once again too intimate sensation, but looking up into the elf's pleading eyes, I realized he needed the gesture as a comfort. The comfort of a friend.

And so, for the first time in my life, I walked on hand-in-hand with another. It still felt strangely intimate, but I couldn't argue that it was comforting to feel the closeness of a friend.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Okay, now I don't want to hear any crap about people trying to say that just because she has red hair, she's a Mary Sue. Come on, it's not like it's a ridiculous shade of purple. Auburn is a real hair color, and as someone who has always had natural auburn colored hair myself (just like my brother and most of my father's family) I am kinda partial to the color. So no knocking it!

And yes, there are many times when being a redhead isn't all it's cracked up to be, like every time I burn the crap outta myself. (You'd think I'd remember to put sunblock on! ;) ) But anyway, I like dark red hair (not carrot-tops, no offense) so no Mary Sue name calling for it; I've seen it done just because the character was a redhead. And Lane's heritage _does _indicate the red hair. But like I said, redhead does not a Mary Sue make. 'Cause trust me, redhead I am, but Mary Sue, I ain't!

And let me know what you think!

Happy New Year again!


	6. Misunderstandings

**Chapter 6: Misunderstandings**

I was still rebraiding my damp hair as I walked back to camp that morning. Merry, Pippin, and Gimli had already lain down and were off to dreamland. But Sam was still awake and handed me a plate of dried foods as I squatted in the center of camp.

"You sure it's not too cold to be getting so wet, Miss Lane?" Sam asked, clearly flustered.

I laughed softly as I quickly picked at my food. "I'll be fine, Sam. I've bathed in cold streams and rivers before." Though I did sorely miss being able to get warm by a fire afterwards.

It was one of the things that made being a female in the military more difficult. For many practical reasons, women needed to be able to get clean every now and then to avoid certain personal hygiene issues. It was just one of the reasons that women weren't officially allowed into combat. But I'd dealt with it before, and I'd always found the key to be cleaning up whenever I was near running water and had the chance.

Even if it meant taking a quick dip in a cold stream. I was clean, even if I was a bit cold. Though, as much as the temperature was dropping, I wouldn't be able to keep bathing in streams we came across. Not since we weren't lighting fires anymore.

I picked at my dirty dress slacks. I didn't want to risk having to put on cold clothes, so they were starting to show their wear from not being washed. My borrowed shirt and cloak were holding up well, but my factory, mass-made slacks weren't made for this kind of trek. My fingers flicked at where the soles of my tennis shoes were pealing apart. They weren't made for this either.

I handed my plate back to Sam. "Thanks for fixing me a plate, Sam. Get some rest."

He nodded and left for his place near the other hobbits.

Boromir and Aragorn were sitting beside each other, quietly talking while Aragorn smoked a pipe, as Legolas stood nearby. They didn't appear ready for sleep just yet. I could see Gandalf and Frodo sitting together as they took the day's first watch, their huddled forms muffling their whispered voices.

Somberness still hung in the air from the day before and from whatever had flown over us last night, but since the sun was shining, I was determined to be more cheerful than the men were being.

I walked until I stood in front of the two men and had their attention. "So, which of you guys is going to teach me how to use a sword?"

Aragorn choked on his inhaled breath, taking too much smoke down his throat into his lungs. Boromir was so startled by my question, he almost didn't respond to Aragorn's coughing breaths, but did finally manage to shake himself from his stupor in time to whack Aragorn on the back a few times.

The Dúnadan gave the Gondor man a less than friendly look before turning to me and incredulously asking, "I beg your pardon?"

"A sword. Who's going to teach me to use a sword? It's something I should probably learn if I'm going to protect myself in this world," I told them, grinning at their shock.

"But Lane, we shall protect you. There is no need to protect yourself. You are a woman," Boromir sputtered.

"Yeah, but even women in this world learn how to protect themselves. Take the Shieldmaidens of Rohan," I explained to them. "Besides, you guys will be safer too if you aren't having to protect yourselves, the hobbits _and _me. And I've told you guys before, I was a Marine—err, soldier once in my world. We just didn't use these sorts of weapons." I knew Boromir would be hard to convince, but I could see Aragorn thoughtfully chewing his pipe stem. He'd stopped even trying to smoke it.

"Come on," I pressed them. "What could it hurt to teach me a little bit for my self-defense?"

"Very well," Aragorn said with a sigh as he stood. Turning to Boromir he added, "Come. I shall need your help, and perhaps the lady can borrow your sword."

Boromir stood at the command, but obviously wasn't pleased by it. I followed the men away from camp where hopefully, we wouldn't disturb those trying to sleep—though I doubted anything could wake Gimli. I sensed Legolas was following behind, but he didn't say anything or object to our latest turn of events.

We stopped at a clearing and Aragorn unsheathed his sword, Andúril. I had to admit, the blade reforged was damned impressive. He nodded to Boromir who unsheathed his own sword and held it out to me hilt first. It was plainer, but no less impressive compared to Aragorn's.

I grasped the handle, and even though I was expecting it, I was still surprised by the heft of the blade. There was no getting around it, it was heavy, and it was another of the reasons women weren't normally soldiers. They just weren't as strong as a man. And I unfortunately didn't have the muscle mass I'd had in the Marines.

I experimentally swung the sword with both hands and felt the weight of it in my arms. _Well, I'll get my muscle mass back pretty quick if I use this thing very much._

"So what now?" I asked them.

* * *

><p>The next several days we continued our ascension towards the mountain pass. Each day we stopped, I got the men to help teach me to use a sword. Sometimes the hobbits joined in, Boromir helping them while Aragorn worked with me.<p>

My arms ached from swinging Boromir's heavy sword each day, but I was learning to position my stance better. I just kept hoping the rest would come, too.

I stepped back again and barely blocked Aragorn's parry. I'd considered trying to read his thoughts to see if he telegraphed his moves, but it was hard enough to concentrate on my own moves without adding in trying to read Aragorn's mind as well. For now, I'd have to rely on simply learning the movements.

"You move your feet well, but do not forget the position of your blade to defend yourself with. You focus too much on your feet; focus on your sword and let your body guide your feet," Aragorn instructed.

I turned away from him to stretch my arms and catch my breath. A memory from Marine boot camp came back to me. Pugil Stick fighting was the way the Corp taught recruits aggression. Nothing like learning to fight and be aggressive than to have someone hitting you in the head with a stick repeatedly. And channeling the frustration of boot camp into aggression and fighting was a healthy outlet if it was supervised. And if recruits were well padded.

But I remembered my drill instructor yelling at us that we'd never win a fight if we didn't attack. And as they had so kindly yelled, "This is war, not a game. If you don't go on the offense and win, you're eventually going to be dead."

Turning back to Aragorn, I said, "All right. Let's try this again."

As Aragorn stepped towards me and struck with his sword, I stepped towards him instead of falling back defensively as I had always done when he attacked. I parried his sword and stepped past him, turning to quickly swing my blade again. He recovered from his surprise, and turned to block my sword.

I smiled, my adrenaline kicking in now that I was finally going on the offensive. We pushed each other back and forth a few times before Aragorn finally started getting the upper hand again. He'd been using a sword far longer and was much stronger than I was.

But I'd gotten the upper hand when I'd rushed him and surprised him. Maybe I could do it again.

Aragorn swung his sword overhead and I dropped low, balancing myself on the ground with one hand, and using the other to block Aragorn's sword with my own over my head. As our swords struck, I swung one leg out, spinning as I swept Aragorn's legs out from under him.

As he hit the ground on his back, I stood and held the sword on his chest, grinning all the while. I'd finally won a bout between us. Though I wouldn't fool myself in thinking it would happen often, or ever again for that matter.

Aragorn stared at me in shock, then threw back his head and laughed. It said a lot about a man that he could laugh so easily at being beaten by a woman.

I held my hand out to him to help him up. He grasped my arm and pulled himself up.

"How did you learn to do that?" he laughed.

Pointing my borrowed sword down into the ground, I leaned against the hilt to rest. "We're taught martial arts—to fight with nothing more than our hands and feet—in the Marines, and I finally decided to use it in addition to all that sword stuff. Plus, I remembered our drill instructors pounding into our heads the lesson that if you didn't go on the offensive, you'd end up dead. Works with swords too," I grinned.

Aragorn shook his head good-naturedly, and even Boromir looked grudgingly impressed.

"You can do this and fight with just your hands and feet?" Legolas asked with an almost impressed smile.

I tossed the sword back to Boromir and crouched into a low horse stance. Flexing my hands in front of me, I said, "You bet. I may not have used a sword before I got here, but I can fight with my bare hands."

Aragorn laughed again. "I have not seen quite such a thing done before, but you will not fool me again. I will be ready for you next time."

I stood from my crouch. "I have no doubt. When it comes to straight-forward sword fighting, you've got many years of experience on me, and I can't count on surprising you again," I answered honestly.

He sheathed his sword and clapped me on the back. "You fight better than you let on. I cannot foresee any opponent anticipating your unorthodox style of fighting." He nodded in appreciation. "I do feel better knowing you shall be able to protect yourself should need arise," he added. "Come. Let us all get some rest." I smiled, knowing I had years of practice ahead of me before I'd truly be able to compete with Aragorn, but at least I'd bested him once.

The men returned to the campsite to sleep and Legolas and I relieved Gimli and Sam of their watch. We stood side-by-side as our watch began. I was wired from finally being able to beat Aragorn—even if I never would again—and my adrenaline rush wouldn't allow me to stand still. I struggled against it, but could still feel myself fidgeting and bouncing slightly in-place. I needed something to wind down my excess energy or I'd never get any sleep today.

"You fight very impressively," Legolas complimented.

On impulse, I turned towards Legolas and grasped his shoulder and jaw in my hands. Leaning closer, I pressed my lips to his and moved my lips hungrily against him. He stiffened against me in surprise, but I'd never let that stop me before.

His lips softened for just a moment, and then he pulled away abruptly, stumbling away from me and falling on his butt in the winter-dry grass.

He stared up at me in shock, and I turned away to hide my embarrassment at his pulling away. I had never been the most beautiful woman in the room, but I knew I was attractive enough and confidant enough to make up for my plainer aspects to get a guy if I was interested in spending a night with him. Men generally liked a woman who was direct and pursued them. I'd certainly never had a man pull away from me before.

"Well I've never had a guy try to get away from me so badly that he fell on his ass," I commented bitterly, still looking away in embarrassment.

Legolas was silent and unmoving, so I finally looked back to see him still sprawled on the ground staring up at me. In my embarrassment, I let my guard slip and felt Legolas's swirling emotions filter across my mind. I couldn't catch his thoughts, but his emotions flitted from shock to embarrassment, and to several other emotions I couldn't and didn't want to name.

"What? You act like you've never even kissed someone before," I bit out.

He gently touched his mouth with the fingertips of one hand. "I never have," he whispered.

My head jerked back to him. "_What!? _You're _how _old? And you've never _kissed_ someone? So you've never had sex either?"

"Nay!" he shouted in a strangled voice.

I turned away from him again and covered my face in mortification. _Great, I just sexually assaulted an elf. A virgin elf! Shit, how do you stay a virgin for that long? _

I heard him stand up behind me and brush himself off.

Not turning around, I apologized, "Look, I'm sorry. I was way out of line and I had no idea, you ah, had no experience in that area." I rubbed my face, suddenly tired and wishing I could crawl in a hole somewhere. "It was stupid and impulsive, and I was just acting on the adrenaline rush from besting Aragorn, and let's just pretend this never happened," I rambled.

He moved to stand beside me again—a little further from me this time, I noticed—but didn't say anything for a while. Quietly he finally told me, "Elves rarely engage in such physical pursuits save for when they find their mate and come together as one."

"So you guys never have sex until you find your spouse?" I couldn't help but ask, turning back towards him.

He looked straight ahead and shook his head.

"Well shit," I mumbled.

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I know things are different for mortal men..." he trailed off." I was under the impression you were not married..." he trailed off again, but I knew what he was after.

I shrugged. "In my world, men and women have sex with whoever they want to," I answered, refusing to be embarrassed for what was commonplace in my world. I was a grown woman, and I wouldn't feel bad for what consenting adults did where I was from. "And I'm not married. I was once, but not anymore."

"I am sorry for your loss," he apologized.

Surprised, I looked at him, "He's not dead. He's alive and well, and married to my former best friend with two kids. It just didn't work out between us, I guess."

"I do not understand," he said, finally looking at me.

"You probably don't have such a thing as divorce here." At his puzzled expression, I continued, "It's a legal way of separating and ending a marriage. More than half of all marriages in my world end in divorce now. I guess people come to realize that they were in lust, not love. Or that the person they married wasn't who they thought they were. Or they change so much that they just can't stand each other anymore."

"Is that why your marriage ended?" Legolas asked.

I shrugged again. "What's it matter?"

"Do I not have a right to ask after what has happened between us?" he asked again, pink tingeing his cheeks, and interestingly enough, the tips of his ears.

"We never should have gotten married to begin with," I finally told him. "I was in the Marine Corp, and he was always griping that he wanted me to stay home and start a family. I didn't want to and we argued. He started having an affair and I took an assignment overseas to give myself time away from him to think. Things happened and I didn't come back for almost two years. By the time I came back, he had married my best friend thinking I was dead. End of story."

"Why did he think you were dead?" he asked, puzzled.

"Different story," I said, shortly. "So how did you get to be so old and still single?" I asked instead.

"I ah, have not yet given my heart," he stammered.

We stood in silence again. I couldn't believe I'd never seen that Legolas had no—knowledge of certain things. He acted so kind to me, but there was an almost child-like innocence to certain things. Like how he held my hand. Or maybe all elves were that way? Had it been in the books that elves were celibate until they married? I couldn't remember. Regardless, I felt like an ass for basically sexually assaulting him.

We finished our watch in uncomfortable silence, and then went back to camp when it was over.

I tried to sleep, but my sleep was plagued by dreams of dark places.

I'd been having nightmares of Moria for several nights now. I kept seeing Gandalf's surprised and resigned face before he fell into the darkness. And then, I'd see flashes of the others' stricken faces after they left Moria.

Knowing Gandalf had to fall to be reborn again as the White Wizard was one thing, but how did I let that happen while saying nothing to the others knowing how heartbroken they would be? But how could I say anything to them to tell them otherwise?

How could I watch it and say nothing?

And better yet, what did I say to Legolas now?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** FYI, I do realize that women are still not allowed into combat situations in the military, for very many reasons. One of the major ones is that this country (its women included) aren't ready to allow themselves to truly be equals with men and be allowed to be drafted just like men potentially can. I'm not saying that's right or wrong, but that's just one of the things, that until it changes, women won't be equals as soldiers. But there are very many other reasons out there too, including the issue of fraternization between male and female soldiers and the risk and reality of outright rape in the ranks. There truly is a plethora of reasons why women don't actively serve in combat, also including male soldiers having more trouble seeing dead female soldiers than male compatriots, and this is an issue I will slightly touch on later.

So I've taken a little creative license saying that Lane has been in combat, but hey, this is fiction, and she is from a world where the supernatural does exist, so it's not exactly just like the world we live in. Think of her earth as an Alternate Universe as well.

Anyway, let me know what you think so far!


	7. When You Wish on a Star

**Chapter 7: When You Wish on a Star**

By the time everyone was awake, fed, packed, and finally ready to move the next evening, I was nearly bouncing on the balls of my feet. I hadn't slept for even a second through the day and I couldn't wait to get moving. It was better to be moving.

When I was moving, I wasn't thinking.

And thinking was all I'd done all day.

Or rather, fretting.

But if we could just get moving, I wouldn't keep thinking about everything. I wouldn't keep remembering things best forgotten. I wouldn't keep second-guessing myself and wondering if I could tell the others what was going to happen. Or at least tell Gandalf.

_Errr, stop even considering it. You know you can't tell Gandalf what's going to happen. You know no one in their right mind would step into oblivion if they knew it was coming just because you tell them they'll come out stronger on the other side. And even if he did believe you, just knowing might make him hesitate the slightest bit; then he's really dead and the whole fellowship might be too. You can't tell them and they can't know. They might try to stop it._

_Ugh, and I really need to stop having conversations and arguments with myself. Only crazy people keep talking to themselves. Plus, I never win an argument!_

I sighed and picked up my pace as we started walking. Soon, I was walking next to Aragorn near the front of the group.

And far away from Legolas—who was bringing up the rear—as I could get.

_Yeah, so that's another problem to handle. I so need to figure out how to eliminate the extreme awkwardness there, too. _

_So shoot me! I'm crazy and still talking to myself. _

So far, Legolas and I had both done our level best to studiously ignore each other as we started this evening's march, but I was afraid it couldn't last. Marching would keep us both occupied—especially since the temperatures continued to fall as we continued to climb—but eventually, we'd have to stop again. And then what?

How could I explain to him how different thing were in my world? And I refused to feel guilty. At least not about the life I'd led in my world. I'd done nothing wrong, but I sure as hell didn't want to talk to him about it.

_Okay, so I did nothing wrong outside of molesting him. Fantastic. I can feel guilty about that. Cross it off the list of things I always wanted to do. End up in a strange world. Check. Molest an elf. Double check. _

I pulled my borrowed cloak around me and pushed forward, determined to wipe all lingering thought from my mind with every steadfast step.

* * *

><p>As we'd begun that evening's march, it became clear to all of the fellowship that our journey had turned for the mountain pass. All were apprehensive, but Boromir wisely advised all of the party to carry as much wood as each member could safely handle.<p>

Having grown up in the shadow of the White Mountains, Boromir knew how cold it would get in the mountain pass, and how desperate we were likely to get too.

Unlike most of the others, I had no pack to carry, but I had a gut feeling I should carry as much wood as possible.

Finding two long leather cords in one of Bill the pony's pack, I wrapped them around the ends of my faggot of wood, and hefted the modified pack onto my back. Even Bill was conscripted into further service to carry more wood.

Soon, it began to snow. Lightly at first. The others were surprised by falling snow so far south, but I knew the true cause. And that it hadn't even begun.

Knowing we had to try continuing on, we started our march again. While the group had halted, so had the snow, but as we redoubled our efforts, the snow more than redoubled. Almost immediately, the wind was heavily blowing and snow fell in heavy sheets of white.

We all trudged on as best as we could, but few of us fared well. The men went first, taking the brunt of the workload in breaking the path, but few of the others were used to hiking in such extreme weather. My factory-made sneakers and pants were not made for winter either.

It had only been early fall back home and the loose weave of my slacks let more cold in than keeping heat in. But I'd climbed mountains before—though properly equipped—and I'd learned to suffer through cold in the service. The key was to keep moving and not let yourself think much about anything.

"Come on Pippin, can't stop now. You just gotta keep moving," I encouraged the youngest hobbit. I could see Gandalf and Aragorn stopped and talking ahead. I could only hope for Pippin's sake we were close to where we would stop.

"—We have passed no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff-wall we are under now," Aragorn was saying as we stepped closer.

I stood beside Pippin and wrapped my arms and cloak around his shivering form.

"Shelter!" Sam muttered. "If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a home."

I couldn't argue with Sam, but truthfully, I'd been stuck in far worse places. At least here, we could see the sky. Or we would be able to if not for the snow.

We gathered around the cliff-wall, and tried to huddle closely for warmth. I spread my cloak wide, and wrapped it around Pippin and Merry on one side, and Frodo and Sam on the other.

Pippin wrapped his arms around me and pressed closer and closer into my side. I let my fingers splay across his head and tried to offer him what comfort I could. I'd never been particularly accustomed to closeness with others or offering comfort, but it struck me suddenly why the hobbits were able to so easily cling to me for comfort. Whether I liked it or not, they could cleave to the motherly facet of me, even whether I knew I had one or not.

They never would have been able to huddle together so closely with the men or others, but here in this world, my feminine, motherly side was the first and in some cases, only side of me that was seen or valued. And the hobbits needed what warmth we could spread and share.

Soon, Gandalf passed around his bottle of miruvor for all to share. Like any good liquor, it gave a wonderful feeling of warmth, but I knew we'd soon need actual warmth.

"What do you say to fire?" Boromir questioned as the snow continued to fall at a heavy pace. "The choice seems near now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow has covered us, but that will not help us."

"You may make a fire, if you can," Gandalf sighed. "If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then they can see us, fire or no."

But try as everyone might, no fire could be started, not even by elf or dwarf. I kept my eyes low and made no offer of help. When Gandalf finally stood to light it himself, he glanced at me curiously, no doubt remembering the Zippo lighter securely in my pocket, but he made no comment and continued to use his staff to light the fire. I was determined to be as unobtrusive to the story as possible while I was here and not let myself change how things were supposed to happen, if I could help it. I had horrible visions of world ending consequences from the slightest change in the storyline.

He spoke a command in another language, and fire crawled up the wood. "If there are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them. I have written _Gandalf is here _in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin," he sighed.

We all huddled closer to the meager flames and waited for them to warm us.

"I hate listening to that terrible howling," Pippin complained as he shivered and laid his head in my lap.

I forced a laugh despite how I hated the howling as well. "Well, why don't you sing us a song to cover the howling wind, Pip," I told him.

He shook his head and burrowed deeper, Merry pressing closer against him on his other side. "Can't sing," Pippin said, "too cold. You sing us something."

"Please, Lane," Merry pressed when I started to object. "Something to take our minds away from this cold."

Sighing, I looked up to note the expectant gazes of the others. Of course my suggestion would backfire. Although, Merry was right, we needed something to take our minds from the bitter chill of the cold, even if I hadn't sung aloud outside of my shower in years. But what to sing?

"When you wish upon a star—"*

I began singing. Cold as I was, I felt my voice break several times, but I kept on. I could mostly stay on key, though I'd always sung in a lower octave for a woman. I did like singing, even if I was a poor imitation compared to many of my mother's relatives. I definitely hadn't been graced with crystalline singing voices.

"I'd wish upon a star to be back at the Green Dragon with a nice mug of ale," Merry commented when I finished. "If I could find a star that is," he added.

"Would you sing another, Lane?" Frodo asked eagerly. This was the closest I'd physically been to Frodo in many days and I could feel a darkness from him that made me want to push him away, but his kind, eager eyes stalled me. He needed his heart lifted more than any of us. His burden was both heavier and more important.

So instead, I forced another laugh and continued to sing for them. I tried to remember whimsical Disney and children's songs, and eventually even sang a few old Celtic songs I could remember my grandmother had been fond of singing when I was quite young. They didn't ask for translations to those songs, and I was too tired to offer them.

"Why don't you sing a song, Legolas?" I asked when I looked up and saw him sitting with his eyes peacefully closed. "Your voice is far more musical than mine."

He looked up and an emotion I couldn't name shone in his eyes. "Nay. Elvish songs are long and too often full of heartache and tragedy. Your songs are more fitting and comforting to us." He glanced at the hobbits and the others waiting with their eyes gently shut. "Your presence and spirit gladdens and comforts us."

His gaze was warm and friendly, and I knew it was his way of bridging the gap that had formed between us. The chasm that had seemed to separate us all day and night disappeared until not even the fire between us seemed to separate us. I knew he was trying to express that though he still couldn't fathom the ways of my people, he accepted me. I was surprised that it was a balm to my injured pride, and surprised that after only one day of avoiding each other, how relieved I was to have it over.

Looking at the hobbits, I saw they were close to sleep. Or at least as close as they were likely to get. I figured I could find one more song to sing.

An old favorite of the guys' in my company came to mind. They'd enjoyed listening to it when we were stationed overseas. Listening to it, they were able to imagine their wives waiting for them back home.

"I put away the groceries. And I take my daily bread. I dream of your arms around me, as I tuck the kids in bed.

"I don't know what you're doing. And I don't know where you are. But I look up at that great big sky, and I hope you're wishing on the same bright star—"**

By the time I finished singing, the hobbits had fallen into a restless sleep—but at least it was sleep.

"Do your people often wish upon stars, Elaina?" Legolas asked in a quiet voice.

I chuckled at that. "Dreamers do, anyway."

"Do you wish upon stars?" he pressed.

"I've been known to. Even when I couldn't see them. I knew they were there somewhere."

"What do you wish for?"

I considered things I'd wished for in the past. Dire things and superfluous things. And I considered telling him the children's saying that wishes upon stars had to be secret to come true, but decided I wanted to answer anyway. "Most recently, I've found myself wishing to return my world again."

"Perhaps you are meant to be here. You offer comfort to the hobbits none of us could," he thoughtfully offered.

It was nice knowing that I wasn't as completely useless as I had mostly felt so far, but it was such a small measure. This world was strange and foreign to me. At least in my own world, I felt competent and needed.

"It was a mistake that I ended up here," I assured him and myself. "The best place for me would be to get back to my world."

"This could be your world. It could be your home," he insisted.

I had no reply for him.

We were all silent the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>The next day, we tried to press further. The men even scouted ahead in the snow with Legolas somehow running ahead of them on top of the snow.<p>

But as I knew would happen, soon they decided they could not continue upwards. Though a path was not entirely decided, I knew where they would be taken. Moria.

When the others turned to start back down, I stayed where I was.

"Come, Elaina. We will reach warmer temperatures soon. We must keep moving," Legolas encouraged, turning around to face me.

I shook my head. "I can't," I hoarsely whispered. I couldn't remember when I'd been able to sleep last, but my dreams had been haunted by dark caves I couldn't escape, and now my waking thoughts were plagued by fears of what horrors Moria would bring.

The others stopped to look back at me, and Legolas stepped closer. "I do not wish to enter the darkness of Moria either, but we shall do it together," he promised, instinctively it seemed, knowing what was wrong. At least partially.

I shook my head again and rubbed my suddenly sweaty palms on my thighs. "I'm sorry, I can't go with you. Not into Moria," I whispered.

Aragorn stepped closer as well. "We cannot leave you behind. We have given you our protection."

"And that's very honorable of you, but you can't force me to go into Moria. I won't," I insisted.

Legolas pressed a hand to my shoulder and whispered, "I do not wish to attempt the dark either, but we can help one another brave it and bear it. You will not be alone."

"None of you are getting it!" I snapped. "I'm not going there! I spent two years stuck rotting in a cave as a prisoner of war. I _won't _go willingly into another cave."

Aragorn looked startled but only asked, "What is it you think you shall do instead?"

"I'll keep going over the mountain. Someone might have cause to keep you all from crossing through the mountains, but who would waste their energy on stopping a lone woman?"

"This is madness," Boromir finally barked. "You cannot expect to traverse the mountain alone."

With a shrug I said, "I've climbed my share of mountains. I'll be fine alone." Though when I went mountain climbing in the past, I was normally properly outfitted.

"I will accompany you, if you are so determined," Legolas finally acceded, a look of relief in his eyes.

Feeling guilty, I told him, "No. Your loyalty and place is with the Fellowship. You have to stick with them."

"You can'na think to climb the mountain alone, Lass," Gimli added, his concern plainly evident. "What if somethin' should happen to ye?"

"I'll be fine," I repeated. Seeing Aragorn gear up to launch in again, I cut him off. "Unless you want to carry me down the mountain bound and gagged, it's not happening, Aragorn. I won't go."

He suddenly turned to Bill and rummaged through the packs until he had refilled his own pack with fresh supplies. Handing it to me, he said, "May the Valar watch over you and protect you. I hope to see you again on the other side."

He nodded and turned away back down the mountain as I sighed in relief.

Boromir started to argue, but I gave him a hug and fondly kissed his cheek. He instantly fell silent, but he grabbed my arm as I started to pull away.

He removed his finely crafted fur cloak and held it out to me. "You shall need the warmth upon the mountain," he said quietly.

I removed my own cloak and handed it to him in exchange. "Thank you, Boromir. You are a fine, honorable man. Never forget that," I sincerely replied as he donned my cloak and I his.

After saying quick and tearful good-byes to the hobbits, and even Gimli, I stood before Gandalf. I felt my heart constrict as I gazed up at his wizened wrinkled face.

I couldn't bring myself to hug him—we weren't that close. And shaking hands with a wizard just seemed out of place. But I nodded briefly, and kept my head down as I remembered what he would face in Moria.

"Remember, no matter what happens, you're never alone," I whispered as I felt a tear fall.

Wiping it away furiously, I turned to face Legolas's curious and saddened expression. He studied Gandalf for a moment, and then turned to me.

"Tell me at least that we shall meet again," he pleaded quietly.

And I understood what was unasked. _Would they make it through Moria?_

"I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the mountain, my friend," I assured him.

He looked relieved, secure in his belief that I knew what was to come. Making me feel even guiltier shouldering the burden of what was to come.

"I will miss your company and the tales of your strange land," he whispered.

I looked down to hide my guilty expression and didn't respond.

"Your people are strange to my people's ways it is true, but you are kind and generous and a good companion. I shall miss you greatly," he whispered, his hand reaching out to grasp mine, almost as though through sheer desperate force of will, he could make me go with them.

"I'll miss you too," I admitted, though unwilling to examine that further. "Keep your bow close," I advised, remembering the wolves they would encounter on their journey down, and all of the dangers of Moria.

I quickly pulled my hand away, and silently started back upwards on my ascent through the cold and snow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ***_When You Wish Upon a Star _from Disney

**_Come Home Soon _by SHeDAISY

Thanks so much for all the reviews! Keep 'em coming, they make my day!


	8. Friends Will Be Friends

**Chapter 8: Friends Will Be Friends**

Boromir's fur lined cloak was a godsend. It was long of course, nearly sweeping the ground at my height, and quite often dragging in the snow. But I was able to wrap it securely around myself, raise the hood, and mostly block the biting wind out.

I'd told the others, and desperately hoped that I was right in thinking that once the Fellowship started back down the mountain, Saruman's focus would follow them, and the snow would let up. I was right, the snow did stop, but of course, I was also still climbing up a mountain pass. The wind was bitter and the air started getting noticeably thinner.

My feet were beyond numb. My Nike running shoes were great for chasing down perps, but right now, I'd trade anything for thermal hiking boots and a pair of snowshoes. Or just the snowshoes. Hell, even a pair of wool socks would be heaven.

I wanted to push myself. To go as fast as my feet could wade through the snow, but I knew better. I knew if I pushed myself too hard and started sweating, I'd risk getting frostbite. I could handle my toes getting cold and even numb. It was better than having to lose a few of them.

When I finally stopped to build a fire, even my fingers were nearly too numb to work my lighter. But I was extremely grateful for having gathered as much wood as I had. I could only hope it would be enough to get me through.

Once I did get a fire started, I shoved my fingers under my shirt and under my arms. I'd already scooped the snow out to create a shelter and shield my burgeoning fire. Now I huddled in my makeshift shelter and waited for feeling to return to my fingers.

It had been a long time since I'd pushed myself against the elements like this. It was somehow exhilarating. Even if it meant pushing myself to limits I hadn't stretched in a while.

Yet, at the same time, I felt guilty. It was more than just fear of being stuck in a cave again. Though, that was a huge part of it. It was mostly because I didn't want to have to actually see Gandalf fall. Or to have to look the others in the face in their moment of grief and not tell them that everything would be fine. That Gandalf would come back.

It was cowardly of me. I was too much of a coward to face them and keep quiet, so instead, I avoid it altogether. And hated myself for my cowardice.

* * *

><p>It was several long days before I had finally peaked the summit of the mountain and then descended far enough to reach an elevation low enough to be out of the snow.<p>

I'd forgotten how easy it was to lose track of the days and nights when you were concentrating solely on trying to stay warm and survive. Day or night ceased to matter, as did mealtime. I stopped occasionally to rest and warm up, and chewed slowly on the various kinds of dried fruits, veggies, meats, and nuts that were in the pack Aragorn had given me.

There hadn't been enough food to spare for filling rations, but I'd had to survive on worse than meager amounts of glorified trail mix before.

Soon after I'd gotten out of the snow, I was able to increase my pace and make good time down the mountain. After another day's hike, I was down to the valley floor. A small creek ran nearby, and cold or not, I was taking the opportunity to get clean and wash my clothes.

Wood was once again abundant, so I built a fire large enough to dry my clothes once I was done splashing in the creek and scrubbing my clothes. They'd certainly looked better, but for now, they were all I had.

I felt exposed sitting in only Boromir's cloak, but I knew there was nobody nearby for at least a half mile, which was about as far as I'd ever been able to reliably stretch my telepathy. And feeling a little exposed was worth it to finally be able to wash my clothes and especially my underwear.

Sitting by the fire, I looked at my few possessions from my world. I still had my two pistols and their holsters, with two extra clips for my Glock and one extra clip for my Smith & Wesson on my belt. I'd only used one bullet so far, to take down the rather plump looking rabbit now roasting over my fire, and I'd hated to even lose that bullet. But hey, I wanted and needed fresh meat.

I also still had my handheld radio, which had also been on my belt, and my cell phone from my pocket. Neither of course had worked since I'd woken up here, but I'd turned them off and kept them. Loath to cut any of my ties to my own world I supposed. Even if they were useless paperweights here. They were the promise of my old life.

My wallet and my badge were my only other belongings from my world except for my clothes, knife, cigarillos, and lighter. Like any good soldier, I'd always tried to be prepared. As a cop in Chicago, I'd been ready for damn near anything with five-hundred dollars in my wallet and a debit card with access to a few thousand dollars more in my checking account. Holding those paper bills here though, I realized I might as well have used them for kindling.

I was a woman of moderate means in my own world, but here? Here I was without a country or a family lineage to name. What would I have to show my worth here?

Back there, I had been a sniper scout in the Marines, able to outshoot most men. Then after I'd been given my honorable discharge, I'd shown my worth busting street thugs and gang bangers when they thought they could off each other and get away with it. But there wasn't much call for someone who could shoot a sniper rifle or for someone to solve a homicide. They needed soldiers who could swing swords and wield bows in the war to come. Not cops.

Here, my weapons and my profession were both unneeded. And so was I.

_Ugh, now I'm just getting moody and morose again. I really need to stop sitting by myself mopping. Just do what you have to until you can get to Lothlórien and find a way back. And stop thinking so damn much. _

I was just thankful my period had ended just before I wound up here, although, by my guess and my increasing moodiness, I was a few days to a week from having to deal with it again.

_Spectacular. _

I knew the various old-fashioned remedies for dealing with the unfortunate monthly reminders of womanhood when there wasn't a drugstore available around the corner with tampons, but I was dearly hoping to make it to Lothlórien before I'd have to do something as drastic as using cattail down.

_Shit, please tell me women elves, or female elves, or whatever they're called get their periods too and will know what the hell I'm talking about and need! Damn, at least let them have some spare rags I can use. I really don't want to have to use cattail down or Middle-earth's equivalent!_

Oh the simple problems in life. But at the moment, I'd rather think about whether female elves got periods too than think about where the rest of the guys were at the moment. And who was still alive.

* * *

><p>At daybreak the next morning, I decided I needed to try to figure out where the guys would be coming out of the mountain. I was assuming that they would still be within Moria since they'd had to backtrack down the mountain, and I'd only had to continue crossing it, but there was really no way to be sure.<p>

Regardless, I figured it would be relatively safer to enter the Golden Woods with the Fellowship than alone.

Problem was, I had no idea where I'd crossed over the mountains and where they would cross under them. I vaguely remembered from the maps in the book that the Misty Mountains lay mostly north and south, but beyond that, I was drawing a blank. Go north, or go south?

I pulled a silver dollar from my pocket. My husband had given it to me before we'd gotten married. It was during police academy training not long after we'd met and started dating. For good luck, he'd said, when the bullets started flying out on the streets. I'd kept it with me when I graduated from the academy, and I'd kept it with me when I went into the Marines instead of becoming a cop.

Even after my husband started sleeping with my best friend, I'd kept it in my pocket on that last assignment into North Korea. That in itself should have been reason to doubt its luck, but it had been one of the only things they'd let me have when they locked me into that mildewy cave for almost two years. And it was one if the few things I took with me when I escaped. And I did make it out alive, so maybe the stupid thing really was lucky.

Tossing it in the air, I said, "Well, heads, we go north. Tails, we go south." I caught it and slapped it onto the back of my hand. "North it is."

* * *

><p>Finally, I found an opening that looked like a doorway out of the mountain. I couldn't see any signs of man, elf, hobbit, dwarf, nor Orc, so I could only hope that they hadn't come through yet. Going into the antechamber probably would have been prudent to make sure, but I couldn't bring myself to cross the threshold of the mountain. It was easier not knowing if Gandalf had already fallen, than to look inside, see a demolished bridge, and remove all doubt.<p>

So I waited.

And waited.

I was almost certain I had imagined it when I heard a crashing noise, but then, I heard it again, along with an unearthly growling and roaring.

I lowered my defenses, and heard the comfortingly familiar unknown languages of my companions. I could even hear the desperate pleas the men and hobbits were sending up to the Valar to escape Moria.

Turning, I started kicking dirt into my small fire and repacking my few belongings into the pack Aragorn had lent me what could have only been days ago.

By the time I had packed everything up again and turned back around, my companions were starting to straggle out of the mouth of the cave. The looks of shock, grief, and astonishment over Gandalf's demise were heartbreaking.

I gasped at seeing their expressions and noted that there were tears in every eye. Instinctively, I started to step back and turn away. It had been the wrong decision to wait for them here. I would have been better off to make my way into the woods alone rather than staying and facing this grief.

"Elaina?" Legolas called in surprise.

I turned to see him step away from the others. Boromir was kneeling by the hobbits where they'd fallen—their grief overcoming them. Aragorn was struggling with Gimli, who looked like he was fighting to get back into the cave.

At Legolas's words, they all looked up and followed his gaze. Unable to retreat now, I dazedly stood where I was.

Suddenly, Legolas was striding towards me and engulfing me in his arms. Still in a haze, I limply let him pull me into the embrace and then weakly lifted one hand and squeezed his arm.

His muttered several phrases in Sindarin, none of which seemed to include any words he'd taught me. Then he pulled back and continued in the common speech as he gazed down at me, "You are alive. I am relieved to have my heart lifted, even if at once I am brought to despair. At least you have made it here safely."

I could hear Aragorn telling Boromir to get the hobbits up and moving. As they came closer, Gimli stepped up beside me and lightly grasped my still limp hand at my side. Legolas stepped back half a step, but still grasped my shoulders, as though afraid I wasn't real.

"It is a hard thing to have to be telling ya, Lassie, but such things should'na be kept," Gimli struggled to tell me as he looked up with earnest eyes, "but we din'na all make it out of the depths of Moria."

I could see the grief and guilt written on his face and knew he blamed himself for Gandalf's death since Moria had once been a dwarven stronghold.

Turning my hand and grasping his worn fingers in return, I told him, "It's not your fault that Gandalf fell. He went with the full knowledge that darkness had been awoken there. And he began this quest with the same knowledge as the rest of you—that he might have to give his life for it. Don't belittle his sacrifice by taking guilt upon yourself for it."

Gimli's brow furrowed at my words, but Legolas spoke in surprise, "You knew. You knew Gandalf would fall. That was the reason for your tears upon our departing."

Before I could answer, the others caught up to us.

"You knew?" Aragorn shouted incredulously. "You knew and you said nothing? How could you say nothing and simply let Gandalf perish?"

I stepped away from Gimli and Legolas, the elf's hands sliding away as I did so.

"I couldn't say anything. It was Gandalf's fate to fall in Moria. I couldn't say anything and risk—"

My words were cut off as Aragorn's fist connected with my jaw.

I'd been unprepared for it and felt my head snap to the side as I stepped over to regain my balance before I fell.

When I looked up, Aragorn's face was filled with disbelief and horror at his actions. But self-righteous anger soon replaced it.

"Fate? How can you speak of death as his fate? You could have saved him. Yet you cowardly avoided the matter by taking the mountain pass alone instead of joining us. You selfishly avoided his death and gave us no warning of what was to come," he spat at me.

Boromir overcame his shock and angrily stepped towards Aragorn, but I grabbed his arm and roughly shoved him back. "That's enough, Boromir. You don't need to be fighting amongst yourselves. And I'm perfectly capable of defending and taking care of myself." Boromir looked just as surprised to be shoved so roughly by a woman as he'd been by Aragorn's actions, but I ignored him and turned back to Aragorn's fuming stare.

Reaching up, I felt my jaw and the corner of my mouth. I could feel the blood there and taste the bitter copper of its tang. Theatrically, I spit it out. "Good for you," I told Aragorn. "It takes most men a lot longer to see me as one of them and actually slug me when they're pissed off instead of doing us both the dishonor of slapping me as though I were like any other woman."

I felt my jaw again. It would be sore and bruised no doubt, and the cut on my lower lip would take time to heal, but I'd been punched harder before. As unprepared as I'd been for it, Aragorn could have broken my jaw if he'd wanted to.

I started to turn away, then stopped and told him, "You get that one free, but don't expect I won't answer back if you try that again."

My gaze caught their startled expressions, and I knew they were surprised I wasn't denying Aragorn's words.

"You truly did know Gandalf would fall?" Boromir confirmed.

I had started towards the trees, and stopped at his words. Not turning around, I answered, "Yes. I knew Gandalf would fall to the balrog at Khazad-Dûm. And no, I didn't say anything. But just remember, there's always more going on than you can comprehend. And sometimes heavy prices must be paid to ensure good triumphs in the end."

I didn't deny or address the rest of Aragorn's accusations. Mostly because, he was right. I had gone over the mountain because of my cowardice. And it had been selfish to avoid having to witness Gandalf's fall to spare myself a little grief. I had no argument for his words. So why try?

"Come on," I called over my shoulder. "We still need to get within the safety of the woods."

I continued on without waiting to see if they were following, and needing the extra moment alone to wipe away the stray tears trying to fall.

* * *

><p>The others soon caught up with me and Aragorn took up his mantle as the new leader of the Fellowship, pushing the others and leading onward.<p>

He avoided looking at me, and generally pretended I didn't exist. But I wasn't too worried. It was one of the things I preferred about men over women. Guys would get pissed and slug each other, then maybe brood about it for a while, but once it was done, it was done. Women on the other hand, let things fester and held grudges worthy of many a Mafioso family.

Aragorn would stay pissed at me for a while longer—I was after all responsible for Gandalf's death in his mind. But eventually, he'd get over it.

Even the others seemed to put distance between them and me. But I could hardly blame them. It was hard to find fault in their belief that I was responsible for Gandalf's death when I felt that way myself.

After we'd followed the road south for a ways, Aragorn noticed Frodo and Sam lagging behind and called a rest to tend their wounds.

As he did so, I removed Boromir's cloak and sat down beside him. Handing it back I sincerely told him, "Thanks. This thing was a godsend. I'd of frozen up there for sure without it."

Silently, he nodded and accepted it back before removing the one I'd been wearing and returning it to me.

I started to get up and walk away when he lightly touched my elbow to stop me. "Why did you not speak to Gandalf at the very least of what was to come?" he whispered.

Sitting back down beside him, I answered, "What good would knowing ahead of time done? I know you guys don't understand, but this _had _to happen. All I can tell you is that as things were written, the free peoples of Middle-earth win in the end. But if I let things change now, who knows what could happen."

"Then why did you not warn us, let us prepare for what was to pass?" he pressed.

"Believe me. It hurts less if you don't see it coming. The pain is shorter lived. The anticipation of it is nearly crippling. Could you bear that burden? Knowing what was to happen to everyone around you. Could you bear knowing your own fate and actions?"

"You know my fate, because of your gift?" he asked reluctantly.

"I know the fate of everyone here. Except for me."

Boromir was silent for a time. I started to stand again, but his hand touched my elbow again, stopping me once more.

"I do not ask for anything other than this: shall I find an honorable death?" he asked in a desperate and low voice.

I reached over and covered his hand with mine. I couldn't lie to him, and I hated the thought of how far he would descend into madness when he tried to take the Ring from Frodo. But I also knew it was necessary. It was the event that would set off a chain of other events, eventually leading to Frodo and Sam taking the Ring to Mordor on their own and finally destroying it. Would that have still happened if the whole Fellowship continued together?

They all had their fates and roles to fulfill. Where would Rohan, Gondor, the Ents, and many others be otherwise?

"When you die, you will fall honorably and nobly in battle, protecting those in need. You will go to your ancestors with you head held high."

He searched my face for several moments, perhaps searching to see if I would say any more.

Finally, he nodded. "I thank you for giving me that small comfort."

Letting go of his hand, I stood and walked away from the others, putting my cloak back on as I walked. I didn't venture far, but found a place away from the others where I could lean against a tree in solitude.

Of course, I didn't end up with much solitude with Legolas trailing after me. But he stood beside me and didn't speak for several minutes.

Reaching into a pouch on his belt, he pulled out a strip of dried meat and handed it to me. "Eat; the others are taking a quick meal before we push on to cross the Nimrodel."

I took the meat and looked at him curiously. "What? No questions or accusations about how I could have let Gandalf die like that?"

"My father is a good king," he said, startling me with the sudden left turn in topics. "He cares for his people and often makes hard decisions to protect them," he continued.

"Okay, not that I disagree or don't think hearing about your father is interesting, but where are you going with this?"

He smiled and I looked him in the eye for the first time since he'd first exited Moria. Strangely, I saw no recrimination there. "He is a good king, but not gifted with great abilities of healing or foresight like other great elven rulers. When I was still very young, I asked him why he did not have such a gift. In my youth, it seemed unfair that he should not have in particular the gift of foresight like Lady Galadriel and even Lord Elrond have. But my father laughed at my youthful indignation and told that he did not envy them such a gift.

"Father explained that he'd never envied them such an ability—such a burden. For he explained it was just that—a burden to know the fates of others. He told it was a grave responsibility he did not desire. A responsibility to know when _not_ to act more so than to know when to act on something foreseen. And he feared he would not have such restraint."

He looked back through the trees again and added, "As I grew, I learned that as he did not envy other great lords and ladies their gifts, I do not envy him his station. I do not envy him his responsibilities or the decisions he must make for his kingdom. Nevertheless, as his only son, I know that one day I must assume his mantle. Still, it is a burden I would not wish upon another, even though they call such a station a 'gift.' Nor do I presume to think your sight is the 'gift' others would see it as."

I felt tears of relief sting my eyes as I turned away to wipe them from my eyes. The relief was immense to know he understood.

"I'd give anything not to know what I know," I whispered. "Or to be back in my world where I've never had to know other people's fates."

He reached out and grasped my hand again. "'Tis not often we can refuse the responsibilities given us. All we can do is bear them to our best ability, and when in doubt, turn to lean upon our friends. You do not have to shoulder your burdens alone."

He pulled on my hand until I was close enough to pull into his side and engulf with one arm. I leaned my head into his shoulder and let myself relax, if only for a minute.

He tipped his head and whispered to me, his lips brushing my hair as he spoke. "When Gandalf fell, my heart despaired after so long in darkness. It despaired of ever seeing you again. I feared you too would be lost to us."

Against my will, I'd felt my heart skip a beat at his words, but then I heard them again. Us. He feared I'd be lost to them. The Fellowship. And I reminded myself that elves were not humans. From the very beginning, he'd shown me friendly affection. He was a virgin for crying out loud. A hug and embrace or even the handholding was probably nothing strange to elves. I needed to keep reminding myself of that and not let my heart or hormones get carried away with me.

I wrapped my arm around his waist and squeezed in return. "I told you I'd be waiting for you on the other side, my friend. And I never break my word," I assured him, unable to make myself look up at him. It was easier to look straight ahead and remind myself I was okay with friendship. I'd come from a world where sex was easier to find and have. Friendship wasn't.

Good friends like Legolas were few and far between. I still wondered at how patient and understanding he'd been with me. How forgiving he'd been of my horrible suspicions and accusations of him.

And even now, he didn't blame me for my silence about Gandalf, even when I condemned myself. He understood and accepted what I'd done and hadn't done.

"Thank you," I whispered to him.

"I promise, I shall ever be at your side," he answered solemnly.

I kept my eyes focused straight ahead, but I could imagine the kind, friendly smile on Legolas's face.

It was truly wonderful to have such a decent friend.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks again to those of you kind enough to leave your thoughts. I love hearing what you're thinking of the story so far!

And informal vote, who thinks book-Legolas had dark hair, and who thinks book-Legolas was blond? I can buy into either argument, and certainly am not opposed to either, but personally, I've always been a sucker for a gorgeous guy with a thick head of yellow hair. And since I'm the creator of this particular little mad world, I get to have blond guys running around. Hmmm…too bad we couldn't make Aragorn and Boromir blond too, but somehow, that seems wrong with their characters. Although, if I remember right, Éomer was a strawberry blond. Mmmm, even better! ;) (Or maybe that was just in the movie. Oh well.)

Anyway, as always, let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	9. More Questions than Answers

As I've warned before, this story will include adult language, situations, and content. We will start dealing more and more with the cultural differences and clashes of a woman from our more open, modern world, finding herself in a very different culture. So, you've been warned! Again.

**Chapter 9: More Questions than Answers**

Legolas and I stood together for several more minutes before we both heard Aragorn calling the elf's name. Slowly we parted and walked back to the others.

Aragorn avoided looking at me, turning to the elf, he said, "I want to push across the river by nightfall. You go ahead and ensure our path to at least the edge of the woods is safe, I will push the others along behind as fast as we can travel."

Legolas paused to gauge my expression. I gave him a soft smile, and then nodded my head slightly to the side to indicate for him to continue. He returned my smile with one of his own and a nod in return.

True to his word, Aragorn was soon pushing the remaining fellowship onwards. I silently fell in step with Boromir at the rear as the others followed behind Aragorn.

Boromir was silent and brooding, contemplating what I'd told him about his eventual death. Thank god, he hadn't pressed for more details. Still—he brooded over what I'd told him.

I could hear and feel him fighting and arguing with himself. He wasn't so far lost to the Ring yet that he wasn't unaware of what it was doing to him. He was alarmed by his own fluctuating moods and greatly feared the loss of his honor. Though I'd told him he would die bravely, he doubted that he would ever be able to face his ancestors—and especially his father.

Boromir knew the strain his city was under and his greatest wish was to push the enemy from his land. And that tantalizing question posed by the Ring hung heavily in his thoughts: Could the Ring drive the enemy from his lands?

I couldn't stand listening to his internal arguments and self-flagellations any longer. My mind was weary from the strain of anticipating Gandalf's fall coming, and I didn't have the mental strength left to maintain my mental defenses that were normally able to block out the thoughts of others.

Placing my hand on his arm, I told him, "You're a good man, Boromir. Never forget that, no matter how terrible the situation seems. And your city will _not _fall. I promise you that." I squeezed his arm once and then jogged to catch up with Gimli, falling in stride with him and letting the strange guttural sounds of his thoughts drown out Boromir's thoughts and self-doubts.

Gimli had never talked aloud in anything within my hearing other than the common speech, or Westron, whatever they called the language here. But his thoughts were almost wholly in some other language, one dwarves spoke, I guessed. But it was soothing to listen to the strange words in my mind and not understand them. He could be cursing me up one side and down the other for all I knew—he wouldn't have been the first—but I was blissfully unaware.

Although, I could still feel emotion from him, and I didn't sense any hostility, so I doubted he was cussing at me in his mind. There was plenty of curiosity though. Along with his sadness.

"Kind words of hope ye offer the lad," Gimli softly commented.

I glanced down as I walked beside him, keeping stride. Being a dwarf, he was shorter than I was, but somehow taller than I'd expected as a child when I'd read the stories. The top of his head reached just to my shoulders, but he still had no trouble keeping pace beside me. His gait was quick and steady without seeming hurried, telling me he was accustomed to matching his stride to taller folks.

"I don't enjoy seeing anyone torment themselves," I responded to the dwarf's words.

"Still, you can'na change what others think in their own minds, no matter how kind your words. The lad has to fight his own demons," he advised, looking at me curiously.

His words nearly made me stumble, and my feet did hesitate before I pushed on. His words were eerily close to the truth of my cursed little quirk, and his gaze and smile were a bit too sage for my taste. I'd survived my whole life by being so careful not to let on to anyone that I could read minds, fearing what the backlash would be. _Could it actually be that this dwarf knows or at least suspects me?_ No one had before, not even my own husband.

But those had been humans. I'd surrounded myself almost completely with them in my world, and I had to keep reminding myself that these mostly weren't humans that I was traveling with. And Gimli at least, had better hearing and was better at noticing small details than I'd given him credit for.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Boromir walking behind us with his head still down, oblivious to our hushed conversation. Looking back at Gimli, I nonchalantly told him, "I just hate seeing a friend in pain. If kind words of hope raise his spirits, then where's the harm? Sometimes it helps to lean on a friend." No way was I going to admit to him what I was able to do.

Gimli looked up at me with one brow raised, but didn't push the matter further. We continued to walk again in silence, trailing behind the also silent hobbits.

The four hobbits glanced back at me occasionally in suspicion, and it proved almost more than I could bear. I could withstand the suspicious looks of the others—I could even stand the suspicious looks from Sam and Frodo, but I hated seeing the once lighthearted expressions of the younger hobbits turned on me in apprehension.

But, I couldn't change it. Even if I could go back, I knew there was nothing I would change.

_There's nothing I would change. _

Somehow, that thought—that admission—was a huge weight from my shoulders. I couldn't change the choices I'd made, and even given the chance, I wouldn't. Now I just had to give the others space to accept what had happened—what I'd done—and come to terms with it.

"I'm sorry you guys think I did a horrible thing. In time, you'll understand I did what I had to and realize that Gandalf will always be with us," I told the hobbits, coming dangerously close to spilling the truth.

They looked at me with less apprehension and more thoughtfulness, but I jogged towards Aragorn, only slowing near him to say, "I'm too restless for this pace. I'll jog ahead and catch up with Legolas to scout ahead."

He started to sputter a reply behind me, but I kicked my pace into a sprint, and distanced us. He had no choice but to let me go or abandon his charges.

I sprinted for several minutes, enjoying the warmer air as I neared the woods and then entered them. My body felt infinitely stronger for being able to stretch my legs and run, even for a relatively short distance. It was quiet in the trees, not even the sound of birds singing marred the silence. Stopping, I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind to find that familiar melodious voice. Finally getting a bead on his thoughts, I jogged ahead until I'd spotted him.

His ears finally picked up my approach, and he dropped into a defensive crouch as he spun around towards me.

I stopped with a laugh, raising my hands in mock surrender. "It's just me. Thought I'd catch up and join you," I told him.

He'd been reaching for his bow, but stopped when he recognized me. "How in the name of the Valar did you find me and get so close without my hearing your steps until now?" he asked incredulously.

_I listened for your thoughts and used them like a radar or GPS to find you?_

"I'm good at tracking and learned to run pretty quietly as a Marine scout sniper," I half lied. I _was_ good at moving quietly. At least quietly to human ears, but I was mediocre at best as a tracker. I'd always relied on my telepathy to hunt my prey. Tracking hadn't been necessary once I got within a half-mile. But I wasn't about to tell Legolas all that.

He waited until I'd caught up to him before he continued on, and then we walked side-by-side. "What is a Marine scout sniper?" he asked, carefully repeating my words.

I felt a smile tug at my lip. "The Marines is the branch of military that I belonged to in my world." I laughed. "The old saying is that there's no such thing as an ex-Marine, but I guess I am technically at least retired from it. My position—umm, job, within the Marines was as a scout sniper," I explained struggling for words he'd understand.

"But what does this mean?" he asked.

"Well, I was skilled as a long range marksman designated to take long range, precision fire on targets in aid of strategic combat situations. Our secondary job was to gather any pertinent and vital intelligence for our commanding officers."

Even to me, it sounded too textbook and confusing, so I wasn't surprised by his baffled look.

"Okay, let's say there's a battle being fought and the other side is being led by one or only a few key leaders or commanders. Now, wouldn't it be easier to send someone who could kill one or more of those guys from a distance, never even getting spotted, rather than send armies of foot soldiers to fight their army toe-to-toe?"

He looked at me in surprise. "Does it not seem underhanded to kill someone from a distance as you say, without their knowledge even of what is at hand?"

"No. Why would it? You use your bow in battle, right? Do you stop to make sure each of your enemy sees it coming?"

"Of course not," he agreed. "And you use these weapons to kill your enemies from such distances that they do not know of your presence?" he asked, gesturing to my Glock at my hip.

"Sort of. A sniper rifle is a bigger version I guess you'd say, able to fire much further."

"How far?"

"Mostly snipers like to take shots at five to six-hundred meters, to insure a clean shot, but I took out a target once at a little over two-thousand meters, or a little over a mile. But there are records for even further shots." He looked at me in disbelief and I laughed, "Yeah, our weapons have pretty far ranges on them."

"A target you say. You mean a man. You have killed men at such distances?" he questioned softly.

Sobering, I responded, "Yes. And I won't apologize for it. What I do helps to ensure my people have less toe-to-toe battles with our enemies and keeps more of our soldiers alive. Or, I guess I should say what I 'did.'"

"I am not condemning you. Merely trying to understand your people's warfare. I cannot deny the benefits that you state. It is simply strange to me," he explained. He looked sidelong at me. "You miss being a soldier."

"Yes."

"Then why did you 'retire'?" he queried.

"Wasn't given a choice. After the mess in North Korea and my capture, the powers that be decided I was done and forced me to take my honorable discharge and return to civilian life." He started to question me, but I stopped him with my hand held palm out. "Just let it be. It was a time in my life, and now it's over; I moved on years ago. No sense looking back."

"You were a scout as well?" he questioned, moving on from why I wasn't a soldier anymore.

"Yeah, that was our secondary objective, to gather useful intelligence."

He grinned at me, "So you _were_ a spy?"

I gaped at him. "Yes. But that doesn't mean I came here to spy on you guys," I told him, remembering his initial response after I'd broken his nose.

Laughing, he replied, "I do not accuse you of such. Merely state that I was not completely wrong."

"I only ever spied on my people's enemies. And I was good at it," I told him with smug satisfaction. "Actually, I was sent out to scout and gather intel more often than I was sent out on simple sniper missions."

Though in truth, I had an unfair advantage that made me better at gathering valuable intelligence than even the best spies in the CIA. None of their agents had the benefit of telepathy to sift through minds for truthful and useful information. My telepathy had been a bitch in my personal life, making it impossible to ever really relax and forcing me to know more about people than I'd ever wanted to know, but in the military, it was invaluable. It was a useful tool and had saved my life more than once. It was why I'd liked being a Marine—for the first time in my life, my telepathy was actually useful.

Then they'd given me my discharge papers. Couldn't have it getting leaked to the public that a woman had actually been actively serving in combat when she was captured in a country we weren't even supposed to be in. I'd straggled out of North Korea after two years of the higher-ups just hoping I was dead. They told me to take my honorable discharge or I'd be dishonorably discharged. It was their way of containing the problem and distancing themselves from me. All in the hopes that no one would look too closely and realize a woman had been actively involved in combat. I'd been pissed at the time, but I'd had no other choice. I'd had to accept it and move on. I was a Marine. I knew what it was to accept orders I didn't like.

* * *

><p>We continued to the Nimrodel in silence, then turned around and started back, still in silence. At least we had accomplished scouting ahead to the river.<p>

Eventually, Legolas broke the quiet. "I thought you said once that women in your world did not see combat as soldiers."

I smiled, realizing how well he'd paid attention to our talks and how good his memory was. "I said officially. There are a few women, myself included, who did see combat. But very few people outside our commanding officers and fellow Marines knew about it. Advanced as my people like to think of our country and world as being, people just aren't ready to think of their sisters, daughters, mothers, and wives fighting and dying alongside their men. Hell, most women aren't ready for it themselves. I wasn't exactly considered normal for being a female Marine."

Legolas looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yet you served as a soldier and you were wedded. Your husband approved of your choice?"

I looked at him, noting that though he was trying to seem unaffected, the tips of his ears were blushed pink. Clearing my throat, I told him, "My husband wasn't exactly thrilled with my choices. He hated it actually and we argued about it constantly. It got to where I hated being home on leave because I knew all we would do was fight with each other."

"He wanted you to be safe," Legolas half stated.

"What he wanted was for things to be more convenient. And to start a family. I liked what I was doing, and I just couldn't see having kids with him," I responded. I was careful to keep my gaze straight ahead as we walked, hoping that by doing so the conversation would somehow seem less personal.

Legolas looked even more confused, and his blush deepened, reaching his cheeks now. "Why did you not wish to bear children with the man you loved?"

I almost choked as I inhaled, and stuttered my answer, "Ugh, well, umm, I guess the simple answer is that I don't think we really loved each other. Not exactly. Or I would have been more willing to have a family with him, and he wouldn't have started sleeping with my best friend." I could feel my own cheeks burning at our conversation and had a sudden desire for the ground to swallow me whole. I may not have really loved Nate, but that didn't mean it wasn't a blow to the ego that my own husband had left me for my best friend.

"I do not understand. Why did you wed this man if you did not love him? Was it a familial obligation?"

I shook my head. "No. Nothing like that. We were friends first, and we got along well enough, then we started dating and moved in together. Eventually, it just seemed like marriage was the next step. I guess to him, it seemed like kids should be the next step after that." I crossed my arms as I walked and remembered things from the past I'd hoped to forget. "I guess being away from him for such long periods of time gave me some distance and perspective. I knew he wasn't a man that I wanted to have kids with or probably even stay with long term. I knew it was only a matter of time until we divorced."

"I do not understand this concept of your people. Why would one sever a marriage?" he asked, stopping and grabbing my elbow to stop me.

I shrugged. "Would it have been better to stay in a marriage that never should have happened in the first place? A lot of marriages happen that never should have. I bet even here. My husband remarried when I was a prisoner of war and he thought I was dead, and it was for the best. He got the family he wanted."

"What did you get?" Legolas whispered.

Again, I shrugged. "I got to start my life over again I guess. Then that got sidetracked when I wound up here. Now? Now I don't know where I'm at or what I've got."

He pulled me into a hug and whispered, "You have friends here."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and laughed into his chest, my voice heavy with sarcasm. "Yeah, I've really made a lot of friends with what I've done. You're the only one not mad at me or questioning whether or not I'm a heartless bitch."

He paused, no doubt confused by my words again, but he continued, "The others will come to understand and forgive you in time. They know you are by no means heartless." He pulled back and grasped my chin with one hand, turning my head to the side to look at my jaw. "Ai," he hissed. "You shall certainly bear a large bruise for Estel's anger." His fingers gently touched the corner of my bottom lip, already sore and swollen. "You should put something on the cut to ease the pain and discomfort."

I waved his concern away and started walking again. "It's no big deal. I've been hit harder before." He looked alarmed at that, so I continued, "The only way it works being a female soldier in my world, is if you're willing to do anything the guys will do, able to do most of what they can do and better, and most importantly, make the men see you as just another man. That's the hardest. Sometimes it means outperforming them, sometimes it means covering for them when they screw up, and sometimes, it means picking a fight with them, just to prove you can take and give a beating just as good as they can. If you're in a combat situation and the men still see you as a woman, it's dangerous for you _and _for them."

"Ah, this I understand. Ellith rarely choose to take the path of a warrior, though they are taught the ways of blade and bow as elflings, but when war comes to our very homes, they do join us in battle," he explained as we started walking again. I could see that we were almost to the edge of the woods again and could even hear the thoughts of the others as they approached. They'd be close since I wasn't reaching out with my telepathy to hear them. "And ellyn are often more distraught over fallen ellith than they are over their own comrades," he continued.

I looked up at him, my brows drawn in confusion. "What's 'ellith' mean?"

He laughed. "Ellith is the Sindarin word for elven maidens."

I pointed my finger at him. "Oh, and you're an ellyn—a male elf."

He laughed again and grasped my hand, pressing it over his heart as he explained through his merriment. "No, I am an _ellon_. Ellyn is plural and ellon is singular. I am only one elf. Ellith is likewise plural as elleth is the singular form for an elf maiden." My hand bounced in time with his gentle laughter as his chest moved beneath my palm.

I gave a small laugh and carefully slid my hand from his chest, feeling self-conscious about the gesture. The more I was around Legolas, the more comfortable he seemed to be with such contact and the more he started letting his elvish nature through, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was too intimate. Even such an innocent gesture on his part made my heart race.

_Fuuuuck, _I groaned to myself, _when was the last time you had sex? What, that guy from the bar three blocks from the station? That was almost three weeks before you ended up here. No wonder you're horny as hell and getting amped up over innocent touches. Shit, you need to get laid or find a battery operated substitution. Damn, like that's gonna happen here. Okay, I need to figure out a way to take about a ten-mile run and just run myself into exhaustion so I'm not thinking dirty thoughts about my very innocent virgin friend here. _

"Elaina!" Legolas shouted, probably not for the first time, "Are you all right?" he asked when I looked back up at him. He was standing very close and grasping both of my shoulders. From that distance, there was no denying he was beautiful. _And a virgin! _my mind reminded.

I nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Fine. Great. Mind was just wandering a bit. Nothing a ten-mile run wouldn't cure." He looked puzzled but the others were nearly to us now. "Hey! Look! Everyone else caught up now," I told him, eager and thankful for their interruption and distraction.

Their faces were still drawn and somber as they approached. Nothing like being reminded that several of them still either outright blamed me for Gandalf's death or at least were wondering about it, to throw cold water on my runaway libido.

Legolas let me slip away, but remained nearby as I resumed walking towards the back of the group again. But at least now that we'd rejoined the others, we both took up the shared silence.

* * *

><p>Finally, we crossed over the shallow Nimrodel, and began making our way into the heart of the woods.<p>

Soon, I could feel the presence of many other minds coming closer from all sides. Their minds felt similar to Legolas's mind, but their thoughts seemed like yet another language.

The others were walking ahead of me and Legolas, softly talking to each other, but I wasn't paying them any heed. I knew the Galadhrim were nearly upon us.

I tried to convince myself not to feel threatened, and not to move, but when the elves stepped into view all around us, my body reacted instinctually, spinning back towards the nearest elf and pushing his drawn bow down and away. As soon as I was standing behind him, I lifted my already drawn gun and held it on him as I felt other elves nearby aim their arrows towards me.

The elf in front of me looked puzzled by my gun, but was smart enough to recognize a weapon by the way I held it and didn't move. I could hear Aragorn speaking in another language, I assumed to Haldir, but I kept my focus on the elf in front of me.

The Marine in me didn't like being surrounded, and I liked having weapons, even bows and arrows, aimed at me even less. So I held my ground, my training making it very difficult for me to even think about lowering my weapon when I was still in someone else's sights.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that Legolas was in a similar predicament, and he too was aiming his bow at the elves surrounding us. That knowledge alone was comforting.

"Legolas, Lane, lower your weapons," Aragorn commanded.

Legolas proceeded to heed his words, but I waited until another voice had given a command in their language and the elves began lowering their bows.

I replaced my gun as the elf in front of me finally stepped back. "No hard feelings," I told him, but only got a blank stare in return.

"Not many here speak the common tongue," an authoritative voice dryly told me.

The other elves began shifting back towards the speaker until they were all gathered near him. For the first time, I got a good look at them all gathered together. My heart started pounding as I took the sight in. There were a dozen or more of them, all tall, lithe, with pointed ears, and that haunting beauty that masked the terror within all fairies.

My breath started coming out in shallow pants as I heard my father's voice whispering in my ear, transporting me back to my childhood.

_"Fairies hardly ever get together anymore in this world, save for making war on one another, but do you know one thing still guaranteed to bring a group of fairies together, little girl?"_

_I would shake my head, terrified of anything that made him speak so animatedly. _

_"The Wild Hunt," he would draw out with relish. "When the blood-red moon rises, fairies will come out to play."_

_He would circle me, growing more excited with each step and every breath. "And do you know what we hunt and feast upon, child?"_

_Again, I would shake my head, too frightened to speak or move. _

_He would laugh and crouch behind me to sniff deeply at my neck. "Mortal flesh," he would whisper in my ear, slowly savoring the words. _

_At my whimper, he would jump back, laughing in delight at my fear. "Yes! Mortal flesh. So sweet when ripened by fear and a long flight," he would laugh as he began dancing around me again. "Only for the Wild Hunt do more than one or two fairies gather at a time these days, but so sweet are the hunts and the chase!"_

_He would always stop to crouch in front of me again, smiling to show the teeth now pointed and razor sharp with his lust and excitement for flesh. "But so rare are the Wild Hunts these days. A pity. Mmmmm. But you—you are mostly human. Perhaps you would make a tasty diversion from my longing for the Wild Hunt."_

_I would always shrink away from the sight of his pointed teeth and the unmasked longing for human flesh. Always, I could feel and hear just how on edge he was, just how tempted he was to sink those teeth into my flesh and find out if I tasted as sweet as a pureblooded human. _

_And for days, I would be too frightened to sleep, fearing that he would finally lose whatever control he had and devour me. Night after night, I'd hide under my covers, feeling my blunt teeth and thanking god that they never became so frighteningly pointed when I was hungry, and that I'd never had a craving for human flesh. _

_And the echo of his words would ring in my ears ... the Wild Hunt ... sweet mortal flesh ... only then do more than a few fairies gather._

I heard those words and my father's voice still echoing in my ears. My breath was coming out in short, shallow pants. Fairies only came together in groups like this for the Wild Hunt. I had to flee. I couldn't let them catch me.

I took only two steps before I was pulled into an unyielding embrace. I fought and struggled to get away, waiting for the pain of sharp teeth to sink into me. But no pain came, only the fairy shaking me.

I looked up in confusion as I registered the fairy repeating my name. _How does the fairy know my name? _And then I looked up into Legolas's worried face.

I grabbed at his jerkin, pulling on his chest as I whispered to him desperately, "I have to get out of here. I can't stay here. _Please_, don't let them get me."

Tears stung my eyes, but they spilled over unchecked. Legolas wrapped his arms around me and pressed me to his chest, at first only making soothing sounds, but finally whispering to me. "You are safe Elaina. These are elves, not fairies. No harm shall come to you here. You are safe." He repeated it over and over.

Eventually, I started repeating with him, "They're elves, not fairies. They're elves, not fairies." The litany soon worked, and my breathing was almost steady again.

But I kept my head pressed against his chest, hiding my face as I remembered where I was and who I'd just had a panic attack in front of. "Oh my god, someone please kill me now," I whispered into Legolas's chest. "I can't believe I just made such a huge ass out of myself," I groaned.

Legolas shifted his grip and ran a hand soothingly up and down my back. "There is no reason to fret. No damage has been done, and none shall think less of you."

I couldn't stop the snort from escaping. "Yeah, I'm sure they think it's perfectly normal." Then I groaned. "Or worse yet, it'll just perpetuate the horrible cliché of the emotional woman."

I finally pushed away enough to risk a glance around. The elves—not fairies, I reminded myself—were gathered near the rest of the fellowship. A few of the elves and our companions would glance our way, but mostly we were being given some space and privacy.

I pulled away from Legolas and covered my face with my hands. "I'm so sorry for freaking out like that. Dammit, that's so goddamned embarrassing." I hadn't had a panic attack of that magnitude since shortly after escaping North Korea, and had almost forgotten what it was like.

He pulled my hands away from my face, forcing me to look up at him. His brow was raised at my cursing, but he let it be. "You have no reason to apologize. You did not choose to become so overwhelmed." He looked up at the other elves and sighed. "Though, I had hoped by coming to know me you would not retain such fear of my kindred," he added sadly.

"Yeah, well, I know you now. And I trust you. I was just startled seeing so many of them together I guess. It just reminded me of awful stories my father used to tell."

He was startled at that, no doubt trying figure out what stories my father could have told to frighten me so much just at seeing a group of elves who looked like fairies to my mind.

I ran a hand over my weary face, suddenly exhausted by the knowledge of how much power my father's memory still held over me. "God, is it any wonder I'm still terrified of my father," I whispered to myself, "I spent my whole childhood, and most of my adult life afraid he would find me and eat me." I was suddenly overcome with giggles. The inappropriate kind that suddenly break out when others are shedding tears. "How many kids can say that? That they're genuinely afraid of their father feasting on their flesh," I laughed.

Legolas heard my words and gasped, his face falling with his appalled expression.

I sobered, suddenly exhausted again. "I told you, fairies are the worst sort of creatures. And among the things they love is feasting on mortal flesh. And as my father always reminded me, I'm mostly human."

He stood in stunned silence and I looked away. "Just forget it. Look, I'll be fine. Momentary freak out on my part, but I'll be fine. These are elves, not fairies, and if they're even half as kind as you are, I've got nothing to worry about."

I took a step towards the others, but couldn't force another, despite the words I'd so confidently spoken. Legolas stepped beside me and took my hand in his, gently pulling me with him towards the others.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"As I have told you, I shall always be here for you."

* * *

><p>We stood near the others, and I studiously avoided looking up into the questioning eyes of anyone. My eyes stayed firmly on the ground, and my hand tightly around Legolas's.<p>

It appeared that we'd missed most of the arguing, and Haldir was explaining that we would spend the night in the trees on the wooden platforms of their talans. For once, I was anxious for sleep. Not for myself, I knew what little chance I had for sleeping now, but I prayed the others would sleep and at least mostly forget the horrifying display I had made.

I sat on the wooden flet, leaning back against the tree in the center. My eyes closed, not meaning to sleep, yet despite my intents and best efforts, I soon drifted off.

Sometime later, I jerked awake. The Fellowship were mostly bedded down and sleeping. But I didn't see Aragorn or Legolas anywhere.

A few of the elves on the flet glanced at me when I jerked awake, but mostly, they didn't pay me any attention. Ignoring them, I stood and walked to the edge of the flet and then sat down with my feet dangling over the edge.

"You are not frightened by the height?" a lightly accented voice asked.

I looked over my shoulder and watched a blond elf come up behind me and sit next to me. I discreetly slid away from him, putting more space between us. Feeling slightly bolstered by the extra space, I took the opportunity to look him over. He was tall and beautiful like all elves, but broader in the chest and shoulders than the others. _Much broader than the fairies I've seen too, _my mind added.

But that distinction was somehow comforting. It was easier to see him as just an elf, not a fairy.

"Hard to be afraid of just sitting in a tree when you've been sky diving," I grinned, forcing myself to relax further.

He looked puzzled, but I waved it away.

"So, you're Haldir, right?" I asked instead. I was guessing he was the marchwarden. He wore a grey hooded cloak like the other elves, but his clothes still managed to give the impression of his higher station. Plus, he spoke Westron, and it didn't seem to appear that any of the other elves could.

"Forgive me. Yes, I am Haldir of Lórien," he spoke, pressing his palm to his chest and nodding.

I held out my hand to him, determined to act normal, but laughing as he cautiously grasped my forearm in a warrior's handshake. Not quite what I'd imagined for shaking hands, but close enough. "I'm Elaina, but everyone calls me Lane," I told him.

"Lane," he tried experimentally, releasing my arm. "'Tis a strange name to match your strange appearance," he said, gesturing to my clothing.

"Yeah, I guess I probably seem very strange to you. It's pretty normal though where I come from."

"Where is it that you are from?" he asked, turning more and leaning towards me.

"Very far away," I hedged.

"Where?"

"Chicago." I laughed at his puzzled expression. "I'm from nowhere you've ever heard of."

"How did you come to be traveling with this fellowship? We had received word of their departure from Rivendell, but there was no word of a woman among them."

I studied his carefully polite face. Though it was carefully hidden, I could see the calculating assessment in his eyes. I was certain Aragorn or Legolas had already told him at least something about me, but he was still responsible for the safety of his people. I couldn't fault him for wanting to verify my story himself.

"I was lost, I guess, and they came across me. It seemed safer to travel with them since I didn't know where I was. I tried seeing if Gandalf knew how I might return to my people, but seeing as he couldn't help me, I figured I'd see if the Lady Galadriel knew how I could return to my country," I explained carefully.

He continued to study me carefully, and I glanced over my shoulder again, curious as to where Legolas had gone.

"Legolas has gone to the other flet to speak with Aragorn and some of my warriors."

I turned back to observe Haldir. "Oh? Good to know," I said offhandedly, uncertain of his implication.

He smiled, but didn't comment. "They are discussing with my warriors the creature we spotted follow your group into the woods," he carefully replied.

Knowing he was fishing to see if I knew something about the creature following us, I arranged my face into a carefully curious expression. "Really? Was it an orc following us?"

He examined my features for a minute and then seemed to come to some conclusion. "Orcs did enter the wood, but they will not leave again. My brother Orophin has gone ahead to ensure the orcs are dealt with. But another creature was seen lurking in the shadows. It moved quickly, and none of my men were able to catch it."

"Hmmm…I wouldn't think a lone creature would be much of a cause for alarm," I commented, looking out across the treetops. The sky was clear, but only a few stars could be seen around the sliver of moon.

"No creature is allowed unescorted within our borders," came his frustrated reply.

I almost smiled at his frustration. "I doubt even one creature will be able to follow us further past your borders with so many elves about."

He continued sitting next to me, looking across the forest in the same quiet contemplation. Then, his voice broke the silence as he turned and whispered lowly, "How did your jaw come to be so badly bruised?" I shrugged and didn't answer, so he moved on to something else, asking, "You do not sleep because you dream of Mithrandir?"

I turned and regarded him as he had studied me earlier. His words came out a question, yet his tone was more a statement, making me wonder how he knew.

"You cried out 'Gandalf' before you awoke," he elaborated at my look.

I drew one knee up to my chest and wrapped my arms around it. With my head turned sideways and resting on my knee, I carefully examined the marchwarden.

Finally, I spoke. "I dream of him falling. I see it over and over. And that's bad enough, but then I keep seeing the looks of grief and devastation on the faces of the others. And I hear their accusations. But there's nothing I can say to them. Nothing I can do to make their grief easier," I quietly told him.

"Why would your companions blame you?"

"They think I knew about Gandalf's death beforehand and did nothing to save him."

He looked surprised. "Did you know of his death?"

"Yes." It came out as a whispered breath, but the elf beside me still heard.

He thought for a moment and calmly asked, "Why did you not try to save him?"

I shook my head. "I couldn't. It _had_ to happen. Even bad things have to happen for good to win out in the end."

My shame and fear of more recrimination caused me to turn me head away, resting my face on my other cheek, as I looked out across the gently swaying treetops. With so little moonlight to brighten them, the trees almost seemed black in the dark night. But I knew come daylight, that everything would look brighter.

"It seems your companions shall have to learn to trust your words," Haldir advised behind me.

My head snapped up and around to look at him in surprise. But he continued before I could think of anything to say.

"Strange you seem compared to my kindred, but I feel no guile or malice in you. I do not believe you would have carelessly chosen to allow Mithrandir to fall. If it was meant to happen, you say, then I will believe in your words."

I stared in shock. "I don't think I'll ever understand you elves."

He looked curious again and he glanced pointedly down at the space between us. "Is that why you fear my kind? Because you do not understand us."

My mouth opened to protest, but no words would come out.

"We all witnessed your reaction to us. You feared us."

I pulled my other knee to my chest and buried my face between my knees in mortification. "I am so sorry about that," I mumbled, then forced myself to raise my head and look him in the eye. "I wasn't expecting to react that way, and I'm so sorry that I did."

"Why did you fear us? You cannot deny it, I saw the fear in your eyes," he repeated.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my knees, hating to be reminded of the weakness I'd shown. "It's nothing. I was just surprised and overreacted is all. All you elves look like a much darker and very sinister race from my homeland, and for a moment there, I looked up and saw you all gathered together and saw them instead of elves."

He looked skeptical at my explanation. "But you do not fear Legolas. When your fear overwhelmed you, you turned to him for comfort," he commented, one brow raised in challenge.

"No. I don't fear him. Not anymore anyway. He's a good friend to me. And I'm glad he was there to stop me when I was acting irrationally."

"You care deeply for him?" he pressed.

I let my legs dangle over the edge of the flet again, straightening and crossing my arms as I faced Haldir. "Of course I care for him. He's become a closer friend than I've had in a long time, maybe ever. And one of the few friends I've got here."

"He is not more?" the marchwarden pushed, his smile turning mischievous and a light gleaming in his eye.

Now I was confused. I had a feeling I knew what Haldir was hinting at, but I'd never been one to beat around the bush. "He's an elf and I'm a human. Things are a bit different in our cultures. Casual sex may be common for my people, but seeing how it's not for elves, we've stuck with just being friends," I snapped.

I expected him to get nervous and blush as Legolas had whenever the topic was even slightly broached, but Haldir let his head fall back and laughed, drawing the curious looks of several of his elves.

Quieting, he told me, "Perhaps it is not commonplace, and perhaps even less so in Mirkwood—I cannot say—but elves do from time to time join physically without forming lasting attachments. I was merely curious as to how far your closeness with the prince extended."

I was shocked. "So you're saying elves _do_ have sex without marrying. I thought Legolas said something like sex being how two elves married or something."

Haldir's head tilted slightly as he looked at me. "Perhaps you misunderstood the prince, or he did not wish to speak of such matters, but some elves do not wait until they give their hearts to give their bodies." He shrugged. "Though most do. Elves give their hearts more freely, and some cannot bring themselves to join physically with another without giving their hearts at the act. It is the giving of hearts that binds a marriage between elves, not the physical act itself. It can be difficult for an ellon or an elleth to find a similarly minded partner to ensure there is no risk of broken hearts."

I was silently absorbing all that he told me when he continued. "A broken heart can be fatal to my kind, so this is why physical joinings without marriage are mostly rare to elves. But it _does_ occur."

"Why did you tell me all this?" I asked.

"As I said, I was merely curious to know how close you were to the prince," he answered with a grin.

"But why?" I asked again.

He stood and walked away without responding. Leaving me to sit in stunned silence, pondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

><p>The next day, we started the last leg of the journey to Lothlórien. First was the task of crossing the Celebrant on the hastily constructed rope bridge. I was apprehensive at the task, but told myself that even if I did slip and fall, I was a Marine. There wasn't a river out there that I couldn't eventually swim across. My courage thus bolstered, I quickly took my turn after the men, and waited calmly on the other side for the rest.<p>

"You are nearly as sure-footed as an elf, Elaina," Legolas laughed.

I shook my head with a grin. Nodding towards one of the other elves crossing, I said, "I don't think so. You didn't see me crossing without steadying myself on the other rope."

Once everyone was safely across, the arguments started. By law, Haldir claimed he couldn't allow Gimli further into the borders without being blindfolded.

Knowing how things would play out, I'd stood back and watched the argument with amusement. When it was finally agreed that we would all be blindfolded, I was smiling indulgently at the elf's and dwarf's indignant huffing. But I quickly sobered when I glanced up to find Haldir's eyes on me, studying my movements and expressions with curiosity. I was still completely unnerved by our strange conversation from the night before, and avoidance seemed so much easier than thinking about it anymore.

My nerves were set on edge when they blindfolded me, but I shut my eyes and tried to force my mind to go as dark as my vision had. I was thankful then that the elf leading me didn't speak Westron. Physical contact always made shutting out the thoughts of others more difficult. But since I couldn't understand the elf's thoughts, I let them wash over me. It also gave me the added benefit of seeing our path through my guide's thoughts.

It wasn't as good as actually seeing, but it gave me the broad strokes of an idea as to where we were and what was happening. Unfortunately, every time Haldir walked past me, going up and down the line, I couldn't stop my feet from slightly faltering. I just kept praying that neither Haldir nor my guide would notice.

After traveling most of the day, we stopped to rest when a message came to the marchwarden from the city. We were all finally to be allowed entry without the need of blindfolds. I was surprised at how genuinely congenial Haldir was in apologizing, especially to Gimli. But it was nice to finally stop and rest in the sun.

I sat apart from the others, watching and enjoying their reactions to the simple splendor of the sun, the trees, and the grass. Haldir led Frodo to the top of a high flet to show him the view while the others stayed on the ground and wandered about.

Years and a mountain of grief seemed to be lifted from their souls. Aragorn especially seemed to suddenly become a young man again. He wandered through the trees, speaking softly as though someone were there to hear. I could see him picturing Arwen and remembering walking about the trees of Lórien with her when they'd met. I felt some of my own guilt slip away to see his heart finally lightened, even if only for a moment.

"I'll find no comfort here," Boromir whispered harshly as he sat beside me on the grass.

I'd been leaning back on my elbows, noting how young and childlike Legolas appeared as he slowly wound his way through the trees, but I sat up next to Boromir at his words.

"You just need to get some rest, Boromir," I advised him.

He shook his head. "I cannot relax here. It is all too—" he trailed off, searching for the word.

I grasped his shoulder and felt him stiffen, but I kept still until he relaxed. "It's almost too much isn't it?" I told him. "So bright, so beautiful, so—other-worldly. It just makes it that much clearer that we're human and not like them, doesn't it?"

"Yes," he whispered in agreement, his voice thick with relief at my understanding and his shoulders slumping forward.

"It's okay to be reminded that we're not like them. It's okay to be different," I told him.

But he didn't respond and kept staring down at the grass between his feet.

It was dusk by the time we finally neared the great city if elves. Great mallorn trees towered throughout the city, with silver lamps twinkling within their branches.

I stepped up beside Legolas, gaping beside him at the great towering city. It was beyond any of my imaginings. So stately and civilized, yet do breathtaking in its raw beauty.

"Welcome to Caras Galadhon!" Haldir proudly told us from my other side, throwing his arm out in gesture to the city. "Here is the city of the Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel the Lady of Lórien. But we cannot enter here, for the gates do not look northward. We must go round to the southern side, and the way is not short, for the city is great."

I closed my eyes and prayed that this great city would hold the key to send me back to my world again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks so much for all the great reviews, and keep letting me know what you think so far!


	10. Almost Like Paradise

**Chapter 10: Almost Like Paradise**

Walking through the south gate, I was again overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of my surroundings. The trees were larger than anything I'd seen or even imagined.

I strained my ears as we walked, and heard harmonious singing floating down from the trees. Elves dressed in the same sort of uniform as Haldir's men passed by us on their way out the gate. Ellith also wandered around in groups, draped in fine dresses.

My breathing started to become shallow again as I anxiously looked at all the elves we passed by. They seemed friendly enough, looking our group over curiously as we passed, but I couldn't shake the phantom ache of fear that coursed through me.

A warm hand suddenly grasped mine, giving me the strength to focus my breathing and concentrate on the present. I glanced up at Legolas's gentle smile, thankful for the anchor he had provided me.

As Haldir passed by to lead us up the stairs, he paused and glanced down at my hand entwined with Legolas's, but I couldn't place the look on his face when he met my eyes. It was curious, but something else too.

I followed the others up a winding set of stairs, my hand in Legolas's. We passed many flets on either side of the stairs, each softly lit with glowing lamps, but we continued on our way up. When we finally reached the highest talen, I was surprised I wasn't winded. Or that no one else was either.

A great house stood at one side of the large open talen. Like everything here, it was stately and beautiful, with that same softly glowing light emanating from it. Great ivory colored pillars stood at the edge of the great porch in front of the house. Vines were carved in twining patterns up the pillars. In fact, everywhere I looked, leaves, vines, flowers, and other images of nature and wildlife were capriciously carved into the walls, balustrades, even sporadically carved into the floorboards. The sheer splendor was overwhelming and breathtaking. Then again, I was certain that was part of the goal in the design of their receiving area.

"Bring forth the Fellowship," a male voice called out, his voice strong and clear.

I looked up to see a tall ellon, regally dressed in flowing silver robes that nearly matched his pale hair. His eyes were focused on the marchwarden at his command, and I could only assume by his stature and commanding presence that this was Lord Celeborn.

Legolas glanced down at our hands, then up to my face. I could see the question and concern in his eyes, so I carefully pulled my hand from his and gestured him forward to the others with my eyes. I may have traveled partway here with the Fellowship, but I wasn't one of them. Just a stray they'd found and that had tagged along some of the way with them.

The Lord and Lady of Lórien spared a bare glance at where I waited at the back of the platform, but then focused all their attention on the Fellowship.

"I am certain my lord and lady shall speak with you shortly," Haldir whispered, suddenly appearing beside me with a hand lightly grasping my elbow.

I jumped at his sudden appearance, my focus diverting from the gathering before me to the elf beside me.

"I'm sure they will. I've been away for weeks now though, so I'm sure I can wait a little longer. I'm almost more eager for a hot bath at the moment than anything," I whispered back to him, flicking dried mud from my upper thigh.

He laughed softly in return, and we both returned our focus to the others.

The co-rulers were busy addressing the Fellowship about what happened and inquiring about Gandalf, but having read it in the books, I wasn't all that interested in a repeat, so I let my attention wander.

Soon, I had absorbed my elaborate and elegant surroundings, and moved on to appraising the gathered elves. I'd stuffed my feelings and emotions deep within myself, and found that I was able to coolly and objectively assess the elves that had escorted us to this talen. Unsurprisingly, they were all tall and gorgeous.

None were as broad as the marchwarden beside me, but I couldn't help appraising his soldiers' fine physiques. Most had opened their hooded cloaks, revealing thin shirts that displayed their toned bodies. _Not an ounce of fat among them, _I thought to myself.

I let myself continue perusing their forms in a detached manner until I realized just how lascivious my thoughts were becoming now that I'd pushed emotion away. Without emotion to cloud my thinking, lust had taken over.

_Is it any surprise with the veritable buffet of fine male specimens? Shit, with this array of choices, a woman could fuel fantasies for decades to come, _I marveled to myself.

Tinklinglaughter sounded in my mind._ I have often considered that our male populace makes quite an impression. Luckily, my own husband quite sustains me. _

The words and thoughts suddenly flowing through my mind were starkly different from my own thoughts. For one, they had a unique voice of their own. Feminine. And lovely.

I looked up to see Lady Galadriel watching me intently, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.

Even after a lifetime of listening to the thoughts of others, I was completely shocked at the notion that another being was privy to my thoughts. Stupid—and hypocritical—but the thought had never occurred to me. I'd never come across a telepath before. And even knowing of the powers Galadriel's ring gave her, I still hadn't expected my own mind to be breached.

I considered Gandalf, and everything else I knew, and realized I couldn't allow even the Lady of Light to see my thoughts. However, truthfully, I also loathed the notion of what she might see in my head about myself. Other than me mentally undressing her soldiers that is.

Having never been around another telepath before, I was hesitant about where to start. Finally, I decided that if I could keep stray thoughts from others out of my mind by constructing a barrier around my own thoughts, the same barrier might keep searching minds out too.

I hastily threw the barriers back in place, and shoved the many musical thoughts and voices from my mind.

Galadriel gave a small intake of breath, and took an involuntary half step backwards. Celeborn steadied her by the arm and immediately pinned me with a hard, inquisitive stare.

Looking around, I saw that the Fellowship had started walking back down the stairs, but they—and everyone else—had frozen in place to stare back and forth between Galadriel and me.

"I am fine, my husband," Galadriel, softly assured Celeborn. "I have simply never felt such a forceful repellant from another's mind before." She looked back at me and gave a small smile. "You are certainly a surprising creature."

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Sorry. I didn't know you'd feel it so acutely. I'm just not used to being on the receiving end of mind reading," I apologized.

Celeborn gestured for the Fellowship to continue on their way, and then motioned me forward. I forced myself to project confidence as I walked towards them. Even if it was a false front.

Haldir matched my steps, watching me from the corner of his eye, somehow both curious and suspicious.

"Why have you come to our lands?" Celeborn asked.

Uncomfortable with, and not knowing _how_ to perform a curtsy, I dipped my head to them politely. "I was hoping that one of you might know how to send me back to my own country," I explained.

They both stared at me for several long uncomfortable moments. "From where do you hail?" Celeborn finally asked.

I sighed, fearing that my answer would be met with the usual confusion. "Chicago," I told them.

I wasn't disappointed. "I have not heard of this land," Celeborn spoke, looking to his wife.

She shook her head, "Nor have I. However, I have seen your coming of late. Strange are your ways, and strange has been your journey. Given what I have seen, I can agree you are not of these lands, Lady Elaina."

"Just call me Lane," I replied, feeling let down. "You know and have seen many things. Is there any way you can see how to send me back where I belong? It was hard enough fitting in back there; I don't belong anywhere here."

Celeborn shook his head sadly and once again turned to his wife. After a moment, she thoughtfully spoke, "Give me time and I will see what my mirror shows."

The Lord of Lórien continued looking intently at Galadriel for several moments more. She laughed, and seemed to be answering an unspoken question, though her eyes never left mine as she spoke. "No. I sensed no evil in the girl. I can sense a haunting darkness, but it does not emanate from her. Her mind is shut to me now, but I do not sense her as being any sort of threat to our people," she answered, finally looking away from me and back towards her husband.

Something more seemed to pass silently between them, but Celeborn turned and commanded, "For the time being, you will be granted sanctuary within our borders. My lady wife will see if it is indeed possible to return you whence you came. When she is ready, she will call for you to seek her out. You will also answer more of our questions as to how a mortal came into such power as you possess."

He nodded his head regally, and dismissed me with a flick of his wrist. Haldir lightly touched my elbow and led me back the way we'd come up.

Part of me felt my hackles rise at Celeborn commanding that I'd tell them about my telepathy. In all my life, I'd never spoken to anyone about it. Being telepathic made me enough of a freak growing up, there hadn't been any sense in talking more about it.

But there was that other part of me—the part that was excited by the prospect of actually talking to someone else cursed with the same affliction. Someone who would understand what it was like, and maybe, even know how to shut it off, or at least control it better.

"What did you do?" Haldir asked suspiciously. "What did you do to make our lady react so strongly?"

I looked up into the accusing eyes of the marchwarden as we wound our way down the huge staircase. I let my fingers trail over the vine carved railing as I considered how best to answer him. An idea came to me, and I said, "I'm a telepath too. I've never had someone else look into my own mind, and I guess I pushed her out of my thoughts a bit forcefully. It kinda surprised me I guess." I'd never told anyone the truth before, and since I would have to tell Galadriel—and likely Celeborn—the truth soon, I decided to experiment with what Haldir's reaction was.

He almost missed a step in his shock, but regained his footing and asked, "Truly? What a shocking gift for a mortal to possess. Unheard of it is, even for elven kind, save for through a ring of power."

I snorted, "Believe me, it's no gift. I've learned to use it as a tool, but it's no gift. And if it were, I'd give it back in a heartbeat. I was just born this way." I shrugged. "I've never known why. I've certainly never met or heard of another telepath in my world."

"Your world?" he repeated.

I kicked myself mentally at my slip. "You didn't expect someone so strange to actually be from this world, did you?"

"Nay, I suppose not. It would explain much," he answered, quieting thoughtfully.

"You're not gonna freak out about all this? That I'm from another world and can hear thoughts?" I wondered.

He laughed. "As I said, being from another world, while strange and farfetched, would explain much about you. And as for hearing my thoughts? I have been the marchwarden of these borders for some time now; I am used to such powers. Nor do I have any thoughts to hide," he answered with a grin.

We continued down silently again, him still lightly touching my elbow as he escorted me.

Once again, he broke the comfortable silence. "What is it like hearing the thoughts of others? Long have I been curious, but never had the courage to ask our lady."

I considered that. "Well, it's not so bad here as it was back in my world. Among you elves especially, it's actually kinda soothing. I don't understand your language, so to me, your thoughts are just this soft background noise. Your language is so musical, that it's surprisingly comforting. In my world, all the thoughts and images were overwhelming. I had to constantly maintain a mental barrier to keep everyone's thoughts out."

"Images?" he asked in surprise.

"Well, most people, humans anyway, think quite heavily in images along with their words. It's part of the reason you elves aren't so bad to have to listen to. Your thoughts are mostly verbal, with very little imagery. Like I said, they're actually kinda soothing."

"I would think such a power would be quite useful," he pondered, and I knew he was thinking of all the military applications for it.

"Don't get me wrong, it was very useful in my military career, and as a cop, but growing up was a nightmare. Everyone, my father included, thought I was an imbecile, or mentally retarded because I could never focus on anything. It was impossible to hear what they were saying with their mouths when I was overwhelmed by the thoughts of everyone around me. It wasn't until I learned to start shutting the thoughts out that I finally knew some sanity."

"I understand being a soldier, but how did you come to be one as a woman, and what is a 'cop'?" he asked.

As we slowly strolled downward, I briefly explained how I'd become a Marine and then a cop, trying to explain the duties of each.

I was surprised at how easily elves seemed to accept the idea of a woman having weapons training, while the men here found the idea so abhorrent. At least they did initially; I think they had slowly grown used to the idea. The elves—at least Haldir and Legolas—were surprised by my chosen professions, but quickly accepted it.

Haldir stopped at a platform near the ground and started leading me across it. I stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"A room has been prepared for you in a talen near the ground. We thought you would be more comfortable there than in a talen higher in the trees," he explained.

I knew the Fellowship would be staying in tents at the base of one if the great trees and that my being given an actual room was in light of my gender. I could appreciate the gesture, but even if I was forcing myself to be calm around elves, I wasn't sure I was actually ready to be isolated amongst them. And it wasn't as if I hadn't slept in many a tent before.

"If it's no trouble, I think I'd be more comfortable near my companions," I told him. I wasn't part of the Fellowship, true, but after traveling with them as I had, I couldn't deny the comfort of familiarity with their group.

Haldir looked at me curiously, and then stopped an ellon hurrying by. They spoke for a moment more before Haldir turned back to me as the other elf scurried off. This time, he held his elbow out to me, and I obligingly grasped the crook of his elbow with one hand and a resigned sigh. It was strange to me, this sort of propriety where a woman had to be escorted about, but seeing as I didn't know where I was going anyway, I ignored my discomfort with it.

"Come," he told me. "I have requested another tent be erected for your use, but I seem to remember you speaking of your need to bathe. I will show you the way to one of our heated pools."

All discomfort fled, and I eagerly followed him towards the promise of heated water and finally, clean skin.

Soon he led me to an isolated area, naturally blocked from view by rising hills behind and trees in front. I could see a well-traveled path winding between the trees, and knew it had to lead to my promised bath.

"Everything you require should be available within," Haldir explained, gesturing to the path. "You will be escorted to your tent when you are through."

I nodded and released his elbow, eagerly starting forward. For weeks I'd made do with the quick baths and rinsing off in cold streams, and while I'd certainly gone longer without a bath, that didn't mean I'd enjoyed it.

The path twisted and wound its way through several bends and around several great trees, making a natural privacy barrier no one from the outside could see past without entering through the same path as well. As I came around the last bend, I was treated with the sight of warm, steaming water.

The spring wasn't overly large, but big enough for a single person to leisurely swim in. Oval for the most part in shape, and spanning fifteen feet long by over twenty feet wide. Large enough, even a few people could carefully swim about in it.

I crossed to the edge, and knelt on the edge of its rock wall, carefully testing the water with my hand. It was warm to the touch, but not as hot as I'd expected. The cool air merely making the steam thicker and making it appear hotter.

Standing, I eagerly shed my clothes and laid my guns aside, then slipped into the water. The water was clear, but deceptive in its depth. What had only seemed like five or six feet deep water, turned out to be easily double that. I held my breath and swam to the bottom, exploring the water-smoothed rocks below and the warm water and air escaping between their crevices.

When I broke the surface a minute or so later, I let out a gasp to see an elleth kneeling near the water's edge.

She looked down, flustered by my reaction as I treaded water. "Forgive me," she replied softly in an accented voice. "It was not my intent to startle you. I am to be your lady's maid and assist you in any fashion you require."

I continued treading water as I studied the girl. She was probably older than I was, but somehow, her easy embarrassment, and yet eagerness to serve me seemed very youthful. She was somewhat plain for the elves I'd seen thus far, but the kindness and naïveté in her expression gave her a humble beauty. Like every other elf I'd seen here, she was blond, but it was lightly streaked with darker hair, almost making it a dirty blond. But she wore it well, its gloss and simple braids at her temples adding to her humble beauty.

"You're to be my lady's maid?" I repeated.

"Yes, miss," she answered, still looking down at the rock she knelt on. "I have brought you soaps and oils for your bath, and will send your clothes for washing. I have also brought you fresh clothes to dress in once you are finished."

"Thank you," I told her in surprise. "That's very kind of you. I would have been happy with just the warm water to bathe in. This is wonderful," I exclaimed, swimming closer to examine the jars she had laid out.

She looked up in surprise at my words, and eagerly explained the purposes of the various soaps and oils she'd laid out.

I swam for a while longer, lathering the soaps in my hair and scrubbing my body repeatedly. Trails of embedded dirt floated away from me. Thankfully, I was in a big open pool. It was also a blessing to actually have soaps to lift the grim away. Dips in cold streams just didn't cut through the grim.

Looking up, I saw the girl picking up my clothes. I darted through the water towards her. "You can take the clothes, but leave my guns," I told her.

She looked up in surprise at my sudden movement. Her face was puzzled and she shook her head. I balanced on the edge of the pool and pulled my guns and their holsters closer, along with my pants and my pack. Pulling everything off my belt, and emptying my pockets, I stowed everything in my pack. Which was actually Aragorn's pack I reminded myself, and I needed to return to him when I could.

"There," I said, pushing the clothes back towards her. "You can take them now. Just leave the pack here."

"Yes, Lady Elaina," she said, dipping a quick curtsy and gathering the clothes.

"Just Lane," I corrected. When she started to sputter an argument, I let one brow rise in challenge. "I'm requesting you call me simply Lane. Nothing else."

"Of course," she demurred with another dip. She disappeared around the corner with my clothes and I could hear her instructing someone. The words meant nothing to me though, so I lazily swam backwards into the center of the pool.

"What's your name?" I asked when she came back into view.

"I am named Andreth," she quietly answered.

"A beautiful name," I replied.

I continued swimming for a while, enjoying the soothing warm water—and also the soothing voice of Andreth, who had knelt near the water's edge again and started singing softly.

"You wouldn't happen to have a razor, would you?" I asked Andreth as I swam closer to her again.

"A razor?" she repeated in surprise.

I balanced my heel out of the water on the edge of the pool, pointing out the stubble on my shin. "Yeah, something that I can shave this hair away with."

She started to reach out to touch my leg, a fascinated look on her face, but then she blushed and dropped her hand as though she'd done something wrong.

"I take it ellith don't have hair on their legs," I grinned.

"No. We do not, but I think I know of something that might work for your purposes," she answered, looking relieved not to be reprimanded.

She leapt to her feet, and scurried over to a small shed I hadn't paid much attention to. She came back out moments later with a basket in her arms. Kneeling beside me once again, she surprised me by pulling out an old-fashioned straight razor. At least it was old-fashioned in my world.

"I was told this is used by men to shave the hair on their faces, but perhaps it is for women too," she eagerly explained. "Long it has been since any but a rare few of the race of man have traveled hither."

"That should work well enough," I smiled. "I've never used one before, but I've been desperate enough to use a knife before, and this can't be any worse."

I used my arms to pull myself from the pool, and sat on the edge of the cool rock, letting my legs dangle in the water.

Andreth jumped up again, and returned holding out a large sheet for me to wrap around myself. I was pleasantly surprised to find it was pre-warmed as well.

Pulling the basket closer, I looked inside and found a cake of soap in a dish, and a horsehair brush to lather it with.

Andreth watched in fascination as I lathered the soap on my legs, and then carefully slid the straight razor across them, trying not to cut myself.

Her eyes trailed from what I was doing every so often to linger on my back. The sheet mostly covered it now, and years in the military had taken away any sort of modesty I might have once had, so I wasn't embarrassed by her curious looks or that she had seen me naked, but I was uncomfortable knowing just what her eyes were lingering on.

"I was a soldier among my people," I explained to her forgoing the explanation of a Marine. She nodded but didn't comment. "Once, I was captured and held as a prisoner of war. The scars are from that time."

Her hands flew to her mouth and she looked horrified.

I turned away and focused on what I was doing. "It's not a big deal. It could have been a lot worse, and would have been worse if I'd been a man. Women weren't worth as much as men in their eyes, so they didn't put the same kinds of efforts into torturing me as they did to other men."

Mostly, I had been left in solitary, not seeing or speaking to another soul for months at a time—a more than effective means of torture actually. The scars were from where my "interrogators" had been over zealous in applying the electric prods and had actually left burns. If they were used "correctly," they weren't supposed to leave any marks at all.

"I was lucky. The worst of my scars to mark my two years there are mostly unseen on my back," I replied briskly, determined not to let those thoughts dampen my mood. And there were other scars too, but ones best not dwelt on.

I swirled my legs in the pool to rinse them off. Somehow, being able to shave my legs finally made me feel truly clean. I was clean, my legs were shaved, and I'd soon have clean clothes. _What more can a girl ask for? _

"So, what have you got for me to wear?" I asked, maintaining my brisk manner.

She pulled a tangle of dark blue cloth into her lap and proudly held it up to me.

"A dress?" I groaned when I saw it fall into shape.

Her face fell and I instantly regretted my tone. "Have I done wrong? I saw you wore trousers before, but I assumed it was for the ease of travel."

"Well, it is for easier traveling, but where I'm from, women almost always wear pants. It's far more comfortable," I explained. "I'm not even sure when I last wore a dress," I muttered.

Seeing her indecision, and knowing there wasn't likely anything else available, I held out my hands, "It'll be fine, Andreth. Thank you."

With the help of Andreth, I pulled on the underskirts and then the dress itself. Andreth even helped pull the laces of the bodice tight for me.

It was a beautiful dress. There was no arguing there. It was trimmed and embroidered with a shimmering pale blue to offset the dark blue. The sleeves were long and fitted; even the bodice seemed fitted to me. I loosely tied the corded belt at my waist and slipped on the matching shoes, which seemed to me more like slippers.

Andreth wanted to do something with my hair, but I declined, pulling it back into a simple braid. If I was going to have to wear a dress, I would keep something simple.

Carrying my pack, I started back out the way I'd come, careful to lift the hem of my long skirt so I wouldn't trip, and laughing to myself at Andreth following close behind and fretting that I wouldn't allow her to carry the pack.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" Haldir asked, causally reclining against the roots of the Mallorn I came around.

"Haldir!" I exclaimed, startled. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here." I had assumed Andreth would be escorting me to my tent.

He spoke quietly to Andreth in elvish, and she hurried off, her head bowed low.

"I thought to escort you myself, so long as you do not object," he said, offering his elbow again. I took it and walked along with him. "Your appearance is quite different," he commented.

I grimaced. "Yeah, I don't wear dresses often; makes me feel like a lesbian or a drag queen."

He looked down at me, confusion clearly written on his face, but I waved it away. I had to keep reminding myself that slang and colloquialisms from my world weren't understood here. I wondered if it seemed to them that I was speaking a foreign language altogether when I said something like that.

"The color is quite becoming on you," he replied.

"Thanks," I drew out, not knowing how to reply.

We walked in silence, and soon he had led me to a small grouping of tents. Turning to me, he bowed low and pressed a gentle kiss to my hand.

"I hope to see you again while I am still in the city," he said, and quickly turned on his heel.

I looked up to see Legolas watching me. His face was devoid of all emotion.

The hobbits were between us, facing towards Legolas, and seemed to be discussing Gandalf's fireworks. I listened carefully and realized the elvish singing I was hearing was likely the lament for Gandalf.

When Legolas remained unmoving, the hobbits turned around to see what held his attention.

"Wow!" Pippin exclaimed. "You look like a girl now."

"Ugh, thanks, Pip," I murmured. I stepped closer, my eyes darting away from them. "So, you guys know which tent is mine?"

Legolas finally moved, stepping around the four gaping hobbits. "It is this tent," he said, gesturing to one if the largest tents.

I walked over to it, aware of Legolas following behind me.

He spoke as I turned towards him. "You seemed quite comfortable in the marchwarden's presence."

My head tilted. "I know I overreacted before when we met those elves on the border, but I'm trying not to allow my fear to rule me. Haldir's been nothing but friendly to me. Why would I continue fearing him?"

He shook his head, started to say something, and then seemed to change his mind. "Your appearance is very different," he whispered.

I looked down and smoothed my skirt. "Yeah. So everyone says. I hardly ever wear dresses."

I drew back the flap of my tent. "Well, goodnight Legolas."

"Goodnight Elaina," he called after me.

Closing the tent flap, I shut out the world.

* * *

><p>I startled awake the next morning at the sound of my tent flap rustling. My hand slid under my pillow, fingering the butt of my Glock.<p>

Sighing, I sat up and left my pistol hidden when I saw the elleth cautiously entering my tent. "What are you doing here so early, Andreth?" The sun was barely casting a grayish light in the tent.

"I am so sorry, miss. I did not think I would wake you. My intent was only to bring you a few things and check your measurements before you woke," she whispered, her eyes staring at the ground. An air of embarrassment and self-reprisal hung around the humble girl.

I sighed and rose from my cot, crossing to where she stood just inside my tent balancing a basket in one arm and a heavy tray with the other. Taking the tray from her, I lifted her chin with my fingertips. "Don't mind my bluster. I'm gruff and blunt, and I often act without thinking, but I definitely don't mean to aim any of it at you." I set the tray down on the small table in the corner and looked it over. It was heavily laden with various fruits, breads, and nuts, along with a teapot.

I waved Andreth over. "Set that basket down and come join me."

"I cannot," she immediately replied, looking sandaled.

"Have you eaten yet yourself?" She started to reply that she had, but I cut her off, "Now, don't lie. I always know when people are lying to me. Just come join me. What'll it hurt?"

She set the basket down near my cot and I poured her some tea, pulling out one of the small benches at the table. Cautiously she sat beside me, and I grabbed a variety of foods to put on a plate for her.

"Eat," I commanded, fixing myself a plate and a cup of tea—heavy on the sugar. Coffee would have been my drink of preference, but not even the hobbits or Aragorn seemed to know what it was, so I'd have to make do with tea for my caffeine fix.

"I have never eaten with a lady before," Andreth whispered as she stared at her plate.

I turned sideways, drawing one leg up on the bench and wrapping my arm around it as I faced the girl. "Neither have I," I grinned. "I'm certainly no lady. I realize I'm going to need your help finding my way around here and learning how things work in your city, but I'd rather have your help as a friend, not my lady's maid. I'm still not even sure what that is, but I don't think I need a lady's maid to serve me."

"You wish me to be your friend?" she asked in shock. "You who has traveled great distances and traversed the wilds in such great company?"

I hid my expression behind my cup and tried valiantly to swallow my mouthful of tea without chocking on a laugh. Clearing my throat, I responded, "I'm just a girl lost in your city. I'd love to have your friendship and any help you can give me."

Suddenly, she was grinning and hopped up from her bench. "Certainly I shall help you in any way I can." She rummaged through the basket she'd brought, and pulled out another tangle of dark brown fabric. I suppressed a groan, anticipating another swathy dress.

"You told that women of your world do not often wear dresses in favor of trousers, so I found some trousers close to your size and altered them," she said, proudly holding up a pair of pants.

I took them from her hands. "Oh, I could kiss you, Andreth! These are fantastic. Thank you so much," I enthused.

Andreth blushed. "They still need to be adjusted some, but I hoped you would be more comfortable in them." She reached into the basket again and withdrew a tall pair of dark brown leather boots. "I assumed these would be a good addition to the trousers."

I took them as well and held the bottom of my foot up to the sole. "Looks perfect. This really is wonderful, thank you again, Andreth."

She beamed happily and took the pants back from me. Looking at me for a moment, she sat back down at the bench and began sewing on the hems with needle and thread she somehow produced from thin air.

Laughing, I told her, "You still have to eat."

She grinned and popped a piece of fruit in her mouth as she worked.

I leaned back and continued to pick at my food and nurse my tea as I watched. Sewing—outside of a bleeding wound—had never been in my purview, so her fingers flying with that needle was nothing short of amazing to me.

"Why do you watch me so?" she asked sheepishly as she finished one pair of pants and started on another pair from the basket.

"Anyone who can sew or make clothes is amazing in my opinion."

"You cannot sew?" she repeated incredulously.

I decided to forgo the complicated explanation of factory-produced clothing. "Nope. My pursuits were more in the male arena. Learning how to be a soldier and such."

"Ahh, I understand. Then you are in need of a lady's maid to help you with such tasks," she admonished triumphantly.

"I'd rather have a friend," I laughed, surprised that I truly meant it.

Andreth blushed again at my words, turning back to her sewing, but she did seem to relax and ate more fruit as she worked.

I continued sipping my tea and considered the last female friend I'd ever had. She'd been my first female friend too.

Sara had been dating one of the guys in my unit when I met her, but we'd quickly struck up a friendship. She was the daughter of a career Marine, and jumped from Marine to Marine. We'd had a lot in common though. We were both crass and could outcuss a sailor. But she was happy being just the girlfriend of one of the guys. I liked _being_ one of the guys. Still, we'd gotten along well. Never asked about each other's pasts or families, but we could get together, drink, and have one hell of a time.

At least until she started sleeping with my husband while I was stationed overseas.

I looked back up at Andreth. I didn't know any more about her past than I had about Sara's, but I already knew this girl was kinder and gentler than Sara had been. More genuine too.

Taking the first pair of pants Andreth had finished, I pulled them on underneath the long sleeping gown the young elf had left for me to wear last night. I was surprised to see that the cuff of the pant leg stopped at the middle of my calf, but then, Andreth held a pair of heavy socks out to me, and I realized between the tall socks, and the tall boots, they'd overlap my pants and more than cover my leg. In fact, the boots nearly reached my knees, but the leather was soft and supple, seeming to give me plenty of range of motion.

"Here," Andreth told me, reaching into her magic basket, and producing more delights, "I already altered some shirts and a few jerkins for your use as well. I would have altered the trousers already, but I was unsure of the length."

I peered into her basket. "You wouldn't happen to have any bras in there would you?" the underwear she'd provided was slightly bigger than the boy shorts I normally wore, but it was something.

"'Bra?'" She repeated.

I found my old clothes in the basket and held out my sports bra for her to see. "Without the bodice of a dress to offer support, women where I'm from have devised these," I explained.

There was no embarrassment, only fascination as she studied my bra. "I had wondered at its purpose," she thoughtfully replied. "I can fashion you more of these."

I kissed her on the forehead. "You're a lifesaver." I grabbed some extra strips of fabric from the bottom of her basket. "Until you can duplicate that one, I'll just bind my chest."

She continued to curiously watch me as I wrapped the fabric around my chest and tied everything in place. "Ellith don't have to worry about this, do they?" I asked, noticing that she, like the other elves I'd seen, were smaller in the chest.

I wasn't a double d by any means, but I wasn't about to go wandering around without some kind of support.

"Nay, I had not thought of the issue of not having a bodice under these shirts. As you say, ellith are built smaller. I have never known a woman before, are they all built as you?"

This time I did laugh. "No. Humans tend to vary greatly. Some have smaller breast like ellith, others are quite a bit more endowed than I am."

Her eyes got big, and she returned to her sewing, shaking her head.

"How is it you speak Westron so well?" I asked.

She looked embarrassed. "I have longed to travel beyond our borders, so I have studied the language for many years. When your party entered our city, I begged for the opportunity to serve you."

I finished dressing while shaking my head. I wasn't sure that I was all that exciting, but to each his or her own.

Having horrible visions in my mind of some poor elf finding my pistols and shooting themselves in the foot, I decided I couldn't leave my guns here, so I slid both holsters on my belt and stowed the extra clips there too.

When I was finished dressing, I walked out to the center of our campsite. The other tents nearby seemed to be open and empty, but the area was mostly deserted. Only Boromir sat near the base of a nearby tree.

"Where'd everybody disappear to so early?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "The hobbits and Gimli have gone exploring I believe. Aragorn has gone to visit elves he knows."

I looked around. "What about Legolas?"

"I'm not the elf's keeper," he grumbled.

I sighed. I wanted to be able to help Boromir, but even if I sat and talked myself blue, he wouldn't be any more comfortable in Lórien.

Andreth had followed me from my tent, so I turned to her. "Would you mind showing me around?" I asked the elleth.

For the rest of the day, I followed the elleth around as she showed me the most highly traveled parts of the city. At times, it was overwhelming being around so many unknown elves. Elves that still looked so much like fairies, but I would distract myself in conversation with Andreth, and the feeling would pass.

Eventually, I heard the clashes of swords, and asked her to detour us in that direction. It turned out to be the training grounds. The elleth and I soon found ourselves sitting on a gentle slope, enjoying the show of ellyn training. Haldir was among them, and was truly impressive with a blade.

Soon, he noticed our presence, and came to stand before us.

"Good afternoon," he greeted us with a bow. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

"It's been interesting touring your city," I replied.

"I regret that I could not have the honor of showing you about myself," Haldir added.

I looked at him curiously, but not knowing where he was coming from, chose to ignore his words. "Your soldiers are impressive with their weapons," I said instead, gesturing to his men sword fighting and shooting targets with bow and arrows.

"Would you care to join them in practicing with sword or bow?" he asked.

I patted my hips. "Sorry. Fresh out of swords or bows."

"I am certain we can remedy that," he answered, holding out his hand.

I took it and let him pull me up, too eager at the thought of learning to handle a sword better. "I'd love to borrow one if it's possible, but I'm still learning to use a sword and I've never held a bow before. My people used other weapons," I admitted.

He looked surprised as he easily pulled me to my feet. Tucking my hand under his arm, he began leading me away. I looked over my shoulder, but Andreth remained sitting on the hillside, smiling and waving me away.

"I can help to further your learning with a sword if you would wish it. I can also begin teaching you to wield a bow if you wish. I have taught many a soldier before," he offered.

"I'd love that. It would be great."

We walked to a rectangular wood building near the edge of the training grounds. Going inside, Haldir showed me an impressive display of any kind of blade or bow I could think of and many I'd never imagined. I fingered a display of swords similar to the long curved blade the marchwarden carried. He picked one up and held it out to me.

"Try this one. It is shorter than my own, and should suit your stature more appropriately."

I held the handle, and let the blade swing from side to side, testing its heft. It was considerably easier to handle than Boromir's heavy broadsword had been. The handle wasn't as long as Haldir's but still plenty long enough for a comfortable two-handed grip, yet light enough to swing with one hand.

"I like it," I told him.

I looked up to see him looking at me, his gaze inscrutable. "You were lovely in the dress, but I must admit, I like you better like this. You look more comfortable, and more … you."

I glanced down at my dark brown pants, dark green sleeveless jerkin, and ivory linen shirt. They were simple clothes, nothing special, but—"I am more comfortable." I agreed. Once again, I didn't know how to answer the rest of his words.

Haldir smiled and turned back to the table near the wall. He handed me a scabbard and helped me situate it around my waist without another word.

Standing before the wall of bows, I was completely lost.

"I don't have a clue here," I told him.

He looked them over and handed me a simple curved wood bow. "This should do nicely for learning purposes. The tension on the bow is lighter, so an arrow won't fly as far nor as strongly, but it should be of greater ease to learn with."

I nodded. "You know more than me."

He took me over to another bin next, and helped me pick out all the necessary leather bracers and leather protective gear.

As we were walking back out of the weapons shed, I couldn't help but ask, "Why are you helping me with all this and providing me with this stuff?"

He smiled kindly at me, it was almost a brotherly smile, not that I'd ever had a brother. "These are dark days we live in. It seems wise to see that you are fitted with the appropriate tools to defend yourself and fight should the need arise."

"You hardly know me, and yet you trust me to just give me weapons?"

"Our lord and lady have said that you pose my people no harm. Indeed she has said that you are to be treated as an honored guest along with the Fellowship and given anything you require." He paused, searching for words. "I can tell you have the heart of a warrior and I deem that what you require most are the tools of a warrior."

Once more not knowing how to respond, I shook my head and started walking again.

* * *

><p>Haldir proved to indeed be a good teacher, but nothing like Aragorn and Boromir had been. His humor and good nature were infectious. I laughed along with him every time he told jokes as he danced around me. His countenance was far different from the somber and serious marchwarden that lead us from the borders, but I enjoyed that easy attitude. I knew all too well what it was like to constantly put up a strong, serious front when working and how much of a relief it was to be able to let it all go and relax.<p>

The marchwarden danced away, easily parrying my attack and laughing as he twisted to get behind me. Sparring with the elf was infinitely harder than sparring with the men had been. As I had expected, he was far faster than a human, but being older than dirt on top of it, meant that he'd had a bit of practice too.

I was trying to keep from throwing any martial arts into the mix, wanting to learn how to wield a sword as they did in this world, but it was getting frustrating having Haldir so easily knock my blade away every time I attacked.

Having been a soldier and cop for so long meant I didn't like losing. _Hell, I had never liked losing, and _that _was why I became a cop and soldier. _

"You must not tell your opponent with your body which direction you are going to move in," Haldir chuckled as I heaved an angry strike at him.

I was sweating and refreshingly tired from sparring with Haldir. I enjoyed pushing myself, and Haldir didn't take it easy on me because I was a woman. He continued to push me.

But the drive to win flared in me again as he chuckled and evaded my overhand swing. When Haldir stepped towards me, I spun towards him, turning close to his body, parrying his sword and hooking one leg behind his as I pushed at him with my free hand and knocked him off balance.

The quick reflexes of elves surprised me though. He grabbed at my shoulder to stop himself from falling, and instead pulled me down with him.

The marchwarden landed on his back with a grunt, pulling me down on top of him.

He stared up at me in surprise. Haldir had dropped his sword as he grabbed at me, but I still had my sword. Looking down at where I straddled his torso, I grinned, "Guess this means I win since I have the upper hand."

He chuckled as he looked up at me. "I surrender. However, I wouldn't count on winning in this manner when fighting orcs."

I looked up to see many of the nearest soldiers had stopped their sparring and were chuckling at their marchwarden's loss. Glancing across to where the archers were shooting, I saw Legolas staring at us. I couldn't read his expression, but he was frowning.

I leapt to my feet, and offered Haldir a hand up. Pulling him to his feet again, I looked back towards the archer's field, but Legolas had disappeared.

"Is that the manner in which your people fight?" Haldir asked, dusting himself off and picking up his sword.

Dusting off my own shins, I said, "One way. Marines are taught martial arts in addition to normal weapons training. It's a style of fighting with just your hands and body," I simplified.

"You shall have to teach me."

"I'd be glad to teach you a bit in exchange for teaching me," I happily told him.

* * *

><p>The next several days fell into an easy pattern. Although there was always a table of food available for the Fellowship near our tents, Andreth continued to bring a tray of food to my tent for breakfast. Soon she was even comfortably and happily eating breakfast with me.<p>

The second day of my stay in Lórien, she brought me to visit with some of her sisters and cousins as they sat and visited. The ellith had all gathered around to gossip about the goings on of the city, but being a stranger—and most of the ellith being unable to speak Westron—it wasn't too enjoyable on my part.

The ellith were friendly enough and certainly curious about me, but it was apparent how very different we were. Andreth was mortified when her bold older sister asked if I traveled with men to share their beds for pay. Being a female Marine in the Middle East meant the locals had called me a lot worse than whore or prostitute. Yet it was a reminder that a lone woman in this world was an anomaly.

Though Andreth had been horrified by her sister's question, it wasn't for that reason that I didn't join her again. Oddly enough, it was because of how out of place I felt by being unable to join their activities. As they gathered around to talk, they would all sit and sew, or crochet, or knit. None of which I knew how to do. It made me feel strangely useless to sit back and watch them create beautiful things.

So instead, when Andreth joined her relatives for the morning, I would either wander about the city, or more often play with the elflings. Having never played with other children growing up because of my telepathy, I was thrilled with being able to simply play with the kids now. And of course, they loved having a grown-up actually _want _to play with them. Though it struck me funny that for all I knew, most of those elflings could have been older than me. I liked playing with the children. I didn't have to have any special skill-set there. Playing with them, I didn't feel useless.

The afternoons I had, I would spend sparing with Haldir. My swordsmanship was improving, but learning the bow was becoming a real struggle. I had assumed that being skilled with a sniper rifle, I'd be able to pick up the bow easily, but the aim and stance for a rifle were far different from the bow, and it was hard retraining my body.

I occasionally saw Aragorn, but he mostly walked alone through the city, lost in his own private thoughts and memories. The hobbits and even Gimli occasionally joined me in playing with the elflings, but Boromir was determined to sit alone near our campsite and sulk. And I wasn't willing to try forcing him out of his dark funk.

Legolas was rarely in camp, and I only saw him from distances. He always seemed to be leaving camp as I was coming back and vice-versa.

But time passed with relative ease and happiness. There had been no word yet from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, but after only a little over a week in Lothlórien, I wasn't in too much of a rush yet. Truth was, I was enjoying myself.

For the first time in my life, things were easy. I didn't have anywhere I had to be or anything I had to do. I didn't even have to struggle for food or money for food as I had when I was a kid and had run away from my father.

There were no demands of me, no one hunting me, and no expectations of me.

It was easy.

It was almost paradise.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hehe, I bet a lot of you are confused by where I'm going with this story now, but never fear, there is usually a method to my madness! And I know it seems like a long chapter where not a lot of stuff happens, but it was a sort of transitional point in the story, and very necessary to set up later events and choices Lane must make in chapters to come.

Thanks so much for all the great reviews and to everyone who added this story to alerts and favorites! It truly is what keeps a fanfiction writer going.

Thanks again, and let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	11. A Few Moments More

**Chapter 11: A Few Moments More**

It had been over a week spent in peace and comfort in Lothlórien. Most nights I even slept nearly through the night. The physical exhaustion of sparring with Haldir did wonders to ensure I slept with very few interrupting nightmares. Still, it didn't stop them all, and on nights I couldn't sleep, I wandered about or even sat and stargazed.

We learned to read the stars in the Marines. They were handy for navigating if you had to go low-tech for some reason and didn't even have a map or couldn't rely on one. The stars here, they looked—similar to the constellations of my own world. A little different—just enough so that I couldn't decide if I was in some different world or merely transported back in time.

Maybe it was like those stories and movies where this was an alternate dimension to my own world.

I could never decide. However, looking at those stars, I knew the particular answer didn't really matter. I was here and _that_ was what mattered. Looking at the vast canvas of space, I knew that the whys of the universe would always escape me. The consequences were the only things that I _could_ deal with.

Looking at the stars and smoking a cigarillo always made me feel philosophical. Something about feeling so small somehow gave a person the power to ponder the universe.

I heard elvish thoughts coming closer, and I was surprised when I realized I recognized the feel of the thoughts. Even in a city of elves, I could pick out this particular elf's thoughts. Hearing a soft rustle of leaves, I looked to my right from where I was reclining between the great roots of a mallorn tree. Legolas stood in profile to me, gazing at the same stars I was enjoying. The view really was spectacular. It was a ways from our tents, but one of the few places the trees thinned enough to afford a view of the sky and stars.

Legolas stood silently gazing at those twinkling lights, and I took the opportunity to observe him unnoticed. He had foregone his normal fully dressed manner, wearing his leggings, boots, and only a loose shirt, untucked, and only partially buttoned. He crossed his arms, and leaned against the edge of the mallorn I was reclining against, although a good dozen feet separated us.

The wind shifted and carried the smoke hanging in the air around me towards the elf. His head immediately turned towards me in surprise as he smelled it.

"Evening," I commented.

"Good evening."

"Care to join me?" I asked, patting the ground beside me.

He looked indecisive and glanced back the way he'd come.

"I promise not to bite," I laughed.

He only looked confused for a second, and then he laughed and walked over to settle beside me.

"I've hardly seen you since we got here," I casually commented, continuing to smoke.

"You have been busy," he returned, glancing at my cigarillo.

I pulled it away from my lips. "Sorry. The smoke probably bothers you." I crushed the end on my boot heel and set it aside, sliding my cigarillo case and lighter into the top of my tall boot. Haldir had explained that elves had heightened and sensitive senses.

"Nay, it is not bothersome. It is a natural smell, not unlike wood smoke, and far sweeter in smell than the pipe smoke of Estel's."

I shrugged. I'd been down to smoking the butt anyway, and no sense lighting another since I was trying to stretch them out and save them.

The silence lapsed again.

"You've been busy, too," I finally told him in answer to his last comment.

He nodded, but continued looking up at the stars. "I have been visiting old acquaintances of my father's. Not many from the other elven havens have been able to journey to Mirkwood in these dark days."

"And you've been avoiding me," I threw out, looking back up at the stars.

His head jerked to look at me. "I have not been avoiding you," he denied.

"Yes you have. You're always leaving when I'm coming back from somewhere."

He let out a deep sigh. "You have been making friends amongst the Galadhrim; I did not wish to hinder you. It eases my heart to see you forgetting your fear of my kindred."

I laughed. "I wouldn't say I've forgotten it, but I'm trying to diminish it. But just because I've been spending time with Andreth doesn't mean I can't spend time with you, too."

"You have also shared a good deal of your time with the marchwarden."

I looked at him curiously. "So? Haldir's been teaching me to use a sword and bow."

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and fell silent. As the quiet stretched, we both continued our stargazing.

"How did you know I was there? Elves make very little sound." I shrugged at his question. "Did you hear my thoughts?" he continued.

My head snapped around. "What?" I gasped. I started to deny it, but knew by his expression that he was certain about what I could do. "How did you know?" I asked instead.

"I heard you speaking with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel after we arrived. Elves have heightened hearing, so I unintentionally overheard your conversation of your telepathy," he explained.

"Oh. And? You're not pissed off with me?"

"Why should I be?" he asked in surprise. "I wish you had told me yourself, but I know you are slow to give your trust. I am willing to wait."

I didn't comment and we lapsed into comfortable silence again.

"You could not sleep," he suddenly stated. "Your sleep has not been so troubled since we reached Lórien. What keeps you from your rest this night?"

"Old dreams," I waved him off.

"Of what do you dream?"

I drew my legs up and crossed my arms over my knees. "It doesn't matter. Just old dreams. They come less and less frequently as time passes. Maybe someday they'll stop altogether," I assured him. Though I doubted it.

"Yet these dreams do persist. Perhaps if you shared your burdens, the weight of them would be lessened by the sharing," he insisted.

I kept silent. He grasped my hand and tugged it down between us, holding it between both of his. "Tell me," he said, his voice and eyes pleading.

"Alright," I sighed. I turned my hand over in his, drawing circles in his upturned palm, and focusing on his hands instead of looking into his face.

"Sometimes—sometimes I dream that I'm still in North Korea. Still stuck in my hole in that dark cave. A hole barely ten feet across and twelve feet deep. The things they did to me—they were horrible—but nothing I couldn't withstand. I was a woman, not worth the kinds of torture they reserved for men, so it really wasn't so bad, nothing I hadn't been taught to prepare for and endure as a soldier—but it was the isolation I wasn't prepared for. They never tell you that being kept in isolation is the harshest kind of torture there is.

"They'd try interrogating me for a few days, and when I wouldn't break, they'd shove me back in that cave for months and months at a time. The threat of going back to that cave was almost enough to make me tell them everything and anything they wanted to know. But I swore an oath, as a Marine, I swore never to give away my country's secrets, and I keep my word. So back to my cave they'd take me.

"It would be days, even weeks sometimes before they'd drop more stale bread or rancid meat into my hole, and they'd never say a word to me. I was terrified by the thought that they'd forget me. That I'd stay in that dark hole until I starved, rotted, and died." I shook my head as I remembered the pathetic state I'd been reduced to.

"Physical torture would have been better. It _was_ better. At least then, I knew I hadn't been forgotten. I had someone to fight. A purpose for survival—even if it was just fighting them to beat them by not breaking. When I was in my cave—there was nothing and no one. No one but my mind, and I couldn't even trust it after a while.

"I started imagining things. Imagining that I could hear voices in the stream that trickled through my cave and under the rocks. Think that it was alive and talking to me, if only I could listen closely enough to make out the words. There was only a little residual light that filtered down to my hole, but with it, I could just make out the spiders and rats crawling around and into my little cavern. I liked the spiders the best. I would sit for days and watch them spin their webs. No two webs are ever alike you know, and it's terrifying and pathetic that I know that," I laughed bitterly. I felt tears stinging my eyes and I angrily jabbed them away with my free hand. I hadn't even noticed when my right hand had fallen still nor when Legolas had grasped it tightly again between his own.

"After I escaped, and was back in the States, I would wake up in the dead of night in these panics, afraid that I was still in my hole. I'd panic in the dark and think I was still in that cave and escaping had only been a dream—something my crazy mind had made up to help me deal with my reality." I let out a derisive laugh. "It got to where I couldn't sleep without a light on, like some kind of child afraid of the dark. Pathetic."

I took a few deep breaths to steady my breathing. "I was only stuck in that prison for a little over two years, and I was a basket case by the time I escaped. Some soldiers have been stuck in POW camps for far longer, but because I'm unlucky enough to be my father's daughter, it was worse for me than if I'd been a regular human. Or even if my father had come from another line of Fae."

I felt Legolas squeeze my hand, whether in support or question, I wasn't sure, and I still couldn't look up at him. Instead, I took a breath and answered the unasked question. "My father's family belongs to the Sky Fae. As the name suggests, sky fairies have an affinity for the sky, sun, moon, and stars. Being separated from them for long periods is very hard. It would have been better if I'd been a Water Fae, or even an Earth Fae—if there were any earth fairies left that is. Even with a watered-down one-fourth of fairy blood in me, it is enough for me to have some need to connect with the sun and sky. A pureblood or even halfblood would have died in that hole. Sometimes, I still wake up after dreaming that I did die there, or worse, I'm still there and everything I've done since is just my mind tormenting me with dreams of things that will never be."

I was staring steadfastly at my knees as my vision wavered. Then I felt Legolas's hands brushing wetly at my face. Touching my cheek with my free hand, I realized I was crying.

I pulled my other hand away from the elf and wiped the offending wetness away, embarrassed by my sudden weakness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry," I muttered.

My hands were stilled and pulled away from my face as Legolas gathered them in one hand. With the other, he lightly touched my chin and turned my head and body to face him. His own cheeks glistened in the moonlight from his shed tears, forcing more of my own to spill over.

"There is no reason under the Valar that you should apologize. I am amazed at your strength and courage," he spoke earnestly.

"Courage?" I laughed. "For three years after I escaped I slept with a nightlight or a lamp turned on, and I was afraid to shut my windows because I was afraid of being locked in. I talked to a goddamned stream and named the rats and spiders that crawled around me in my cave. I went nuts—I lost my mind after only two years as a prisoner of war. What the hell is courageous about _that_?"

I tried to turn away, but Legolas continued to hold my hands. "Yet you survived," he insisted. "Elves are not so different in this matter. An elf cut off from nature or one who has his freedom taken from him will fade after only a short time. We do not well suffer such atrocities as you have endured. Yet you _have_ endured them. You are changed by your trials, I can feel it, yet you are stronger. This too I can feel. You are marked by the scars your fëa bears, but it makes you stronger."

"'Fëa'?" I repeated.

He pressed his free hand over my heart. "Your spirit."

"I don't feel stronger," I whispered.

"Your spirit bears chinks in its armor, but it heals, and as it heals and repairs itself, it is stronger where it was repaired than it was before."

"How do you know that?"

"You are here. You have not given up. You fought, and you won by simply being here. _That_ is how I know you are stronger."

I leaned back against the mallorn and turned my side to Legolas again. He resettled beside me, but kept my hand between us in his grasp. Leaning over, I let my body lean against the warmth of his and laid my head on his shoulder.

"I wish I could believe you," I whispered in the silence.

Yet, sitting there with my head on Legolas's shoulder, I slept more soundly than I had in nearly a decade.

* * *

><p>I woke to the sound of someone clearing his or her throat.<p>

Something jerked beneath me, and I opened my eyes lazily to see that I'd fallen asleep with my head on Legolas's chest and his arm wrapped around my shoulders with my body twisted towards his.

I looked up to see Andreth standing nearby, her head and eyes cast downwards. Straightening up, I stretched and yawned before springing to my feet.

"What is it Andreth?"

"Lady Galadriel has asked to speak with you," she whispered, eyes still averted.

I glanced over to see Legolas standing too, straightening his clothes, and that his eyes were darting away as well. I fought the urge to groan in frustration. Here I was, stuck with two virgin elves who were acting like the proverbial teenagers caught by the parents, and one of them hadn't even been here. _And_, _nothing had happened anyway, _I groaned to myself.

Instead, I smiled pleasantly at Andreth. "Well, probably shouldn't keep her waiting. I'll drop by my tent quick and splash some water on my face."

I glanced at Legolas, but for the life of me, I still couldn't read what was in his eyes as he finally glanced up at me.

Rather than dwell on it, I turned on my heel and walked back to my tent, Andreth following closely behind.

* * *

><p>"You asked for me?" I told the regal elleth as I entered her garden.<p>

She met me where I waited at the entrance to her garden and stopped in front of me. I could almost feel the caress of her mind trying to touch mine, but my defenses held.

"Astonishing," she said, admiration coloring the word. Her eyes gazed up and down me, not bothering to hide her open assessment of me, and then she gestured into the garden. "Come, walk with me."

I followed the beautiful elleth, strolling beside her at a leisurely pace. As we walked, I took the time to give her the same frank assessment she'd given me. Her beauty hadn't been any shock to me, but I was surprised at her height. At an inch or two over six feet, she seemed tall even for ellith. Her eyes were the most surprising though. Light blue—almost gray, and they held the weight of time and of the world in them.

My grandmother had had the same weighty knowledge in her gaze. That knowledge that comes from someone who saw things no one else did.

"How are you enjoying our city?" she asked pleasantly.

"I'm enjoying it a lot. It's a truly beautiful city," I honestly answered.

She stopped and glanced overhead at the bare treetops. "Alas, a shame you could not enter our city in the splendor of summer. The wood shall ever be cast in winter I fear, its golden leaves never again to grace the city," she lamented. Her hands clasped together as she spoke, her fingers spinning a silver ring with a white stone on her forefinger.

She saw where my gaze landed, and her fingers stilled.

"I thought the rings of power were supposed to be hidden from sight?" I wondered aloud.

Galadriel laughed, a soft pure sound. "It cannot be hidden from one who knows to look for it." Her face and voice sobered as she resumed walking and glanced down at me. "Yet even then, it could not be hidden from you. It is a thing crafted from a dark purpose. Darkness has left its own mark upon you, leaving you to bear whiteness to darkness in all its forms. Nenya has allowed me to hold back the elements and fashion a haven here, but its power diminishes. It is this ring that gives me the power to see into the minds of others."

"I'd give anything to have my telepathy come from a ring. To be able to shut it off at will. Or just get rid of it all together," I bemoaned.

Silence lapsed again as we walked. I brushed my hands down my thighs, almost wishing I'd let Andreth talk me into one of her frothy dresses. Next to Galadriel, I felt woefully underdressed. Her dress was simple and white, but her presence and the nobility that leaked from her pores told me she would look regal in a burlap sack.

"I figured your husband would be with us too," I commented curiously. My fingers trailed over the bare twigs of shrubs as we walked, but I could imagine they were beautiful when leafed out. Galadriel's fond, reminiscing looks told me she had a lot of pride in this garden. I could only imagine the flowers and greenery that must be lovingly kept here.

"I asked my lord husband to allow me the chance to speak alone with you. To learn more about you, and to tell you the things you must know," she answered.

I laughed. "Not afraid to be alone with the stranger?"

She stopped and turned towards me. The light around us seemed to dim and then grow within her. I knew in this fashion, Frodo would see her as beautiful and terrible, but to me her visage permeated her age and experience. Her wrath if need be as well. I held my ground, refusing to be cowed.

The light around her faded and she laughed again lightly, "I am not without my own abilities." She gestured forward, "Come, we are not yet there."

I followed beside her again, still uncowed, but properly wary.

"You have no more reason to fear me than I you," she commented with a half-smile.

"Why's that?"

"We neither of us has any ill intentions to harm the other."

"How do you know?" I couldn't help asking.

The corner of her mouth tugged up more as she smothered a smile. "I need not see your thoughts to see your heart. Elves are not as man. We can see into the hearts of others. We can know if their intent is good or ill." We came into a clearing and she sat on an ornately carved stone bench, gesturing for me to sit beside her. "But then, you are not wholly unto the race of man. Something darker lurks within your blood. Yet the light wins out."

I sat cautiously on the end of the bench, keeping a modest distance between us. "I can't help the blood that runs through my veins," I whispered, my fingers tracing the white vines and leaves carved into the edge of the bench.

"Nay, none can. You can no more help the blood in your veins than I can help the Noldorin and Telerin in mine." I looked back up at her words. "All we can help is how we let it affect our decisions."

"And how have you let it affect yours?"

She smiled, sagely but sadly, her eyes turning to gaze longingly into the West. "Poorly, I fear. Like all must, I await my chance to stand before the Valar to atone my actions, and my pride."

I remembered little of Galadriel's past, but a partial memory remained that she had been one of the Noldor to sail from the shores of Valinor, though she had not been a kinslayer. Nevertheless, she had been punished for fleeing the Undying Lands without permission.

"You're not allowed to return to Valinor," I whispered to myself, remembering.

"You know much," she responded. After a moment, she asked, hope, and fear in her voice, "Shall I ever be allowed to return?"

My eyes jerked back up to hers and I wondered how much she'd seen of what I knew from my companions' minds. She seemed to know I had knowledge of the coming events. "I can't answer that. You know as well as anyone, anything I tell you could alter things." Knowing might very well change whether she denied herself the One Ring when Frodo offered it to her. And it would be her refusal, in spite of her pride wanting to take and use the Ring, which would redeem her place in Valinor.

"Your foresight is strong; it is good your judgment is as well," she offered kindly, though the hope dimmed in her eyes.

Shaking my head, I answered, "It's not really foresight. This world and the events of this time are part of a story in my world. I just happened to have read it."

Reaching out, she grasped my hand and pulled me to my feet. Leading me forward, she pulled us to a stop at the edge of the clearing. Before us was a low pedestal and upon it sat a wide, silver basin. Releasing my hand, she dipped a silver pitcher into the nearby stream, and filled the basin, blowing across the surface after it was filled.

She gestured to her mirror. "In this way, I see what was, that which is, and that which may yet happen. Knowledge of the future comes in whatever guise it will to those who can see it. Yours comes to you in the guise of stories."

"It's not foresight. They really were just stories. I never saw anything that was gonna happen in my own world," I insisted.

"Knowledge of the future comes to us in the form our mind can most easily handle. You will see. Yet it matters not, you know what is to come and that cannot be undone."

It was that very knowledge and responsibility that I hated and wanted to escape.

"Is there a way for me to return to my world?" I asked, my heart needing to finally know.

Her head tilted slightly as she considered me. "You know not your own fate? You do not see it?"

I shook my head, unable to speak.

Blowing again on the water, she offered, "You are welcome to look for yourself if you so choose."

I took a step back as I tried to swallow, my mouth gone suddenly dry. "Do you know what I'd see?"

She shook get head. "None can say what is to be seen in the mirror, not even I."

"Do you know if I can return to my world?" I pushed.

"You will not look into the mirror?"

"Will that show me how to return?"

She sighed and trailed her hand along the edge of the basin, carefully avoiding the water.

"You were not meant to come into this world; that much I have seen. Even the Valar, I think, are confused by your appearance here. If it is known why, it is known only to Eru." Her fingers stopped trailing the basin and her eyes pinned me in their stare. "Long I have looked to see what your fate is meant for."

"And what did you see?" I whispered when she didn't continue.

"Ripples."

"'Ripples'?" I repeated.

"I cannot see a way for you to return. Your fate is to live and ultimately die in this world. Beyond that are only ripples and shadows. I cannot see the precise manner or time of your death. Or rather, I see too many possibilities. You have choices to make that will decide that fate, and cease the ripples. But only you can make those choices," she answered coolly.

I felt my world spin out of control. "I can't return to my world? At all? How can that be? What am I supposed to do?"

I pressed my closed fist over my chest as I tried to steady my breathing. I glanced up to see Galadriel still watching me in a cool, unaffected manner.

"Are you sure? Are you certain there is no way for me to return?" I questioned desperately, stepping forward.

She shook her head. "There is no force wielded by any being within Middle-earth to send you back. You are destined to live and eventually end your days here. I am sorry," she offered.

I turned away. "Thank you for telling me," I choked out.

"My offer stands. If you wish it, you may look into my mirror. It is not an offer I give to all."

I didn't look back. "If I'm stuck here, I don't want to know any more about my future than that," I managed to get out. "Excuse me; I need to go somewhere else."

Not waiting for her response, I started briskly in the direction we'd come. As soon as my feet touched the path we had come through near the entrance of Galadriel's garden, I took off in a sprint. I wasn't sure where I was going. Other than away from the elf whom had shattered my hopes for ever returning to my world.

Finally, I stopped to catch my breath and lean against the silver bark of a mallorn. I half expected more tears after my embarrassing waterworks from just last night, but I felt surprisingly numb.

"Elaina!" Legolas called from behind me.

I jumped, startled, and turned to see him running towards me.

"What has happened? What is wrong, Elaina?" he asked, his voice frantic and near pleading.

My mind ignored his questions as it latched onto something else. "Why do you always call me Elaina and not Lane? You're the only one who does." And for some reason, the only one I never corrected.

He looked surprised, but answered nonetheless. "I do not understand this concept of a 'shorter' name. You are named Elaina and it is a lovely name. Why should I call you otherwise?"

I almost smiled at that, but it didn't quite even reach my lips.

"What has happened? I saw you running from the Lady Galadriel's gardens. Did your meeting with her prove ill?" he asked again.

Tears did sting my eyes at the reminder. "I can't go back," I whispered. I felt my face twist as I tried to hold a sob at bay. "I'm stuck here."

Legolas stepped forward and pulled me into his arms without hesitation. Laying my head on his shoulder, I felt a sob finally escape.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I cried.

He made soothing sounds as he rubbed my back with one hand. "You will find your own path here. A path different than in your old world perhaps, but yours nevertheless."

"I just want to go back to my own world where things made sense," I muttered into his shoulder.

Legolas pulled away and looked down at me curiously. "Where is your home?" he asked.

I leaned back in confusion. "I've told you before. I live—lived in Chicago."

"Yes, you lived in Chicago. You speak of your city, your country, your world. You speak of living in this Chicago, but you have never once spoken of a home. Where is your home?"

"I—" I stopped. I'd never thought about it, but I realized he was right. What's more, I don't think I'd ever called or even thought of anywhere as home. Ever. "I don't know," I admitted.

The hair around my face had pulled loose from my braid as I ran. Legolas pushed the strands from my face with his fingers. "Perhaps this is what will afford you the chance to begin again and finally find your home."

"I don't know where to start."

"You shall find your way. Of this I have no doubt," he assured me.

I leaned forward again, into the comfort he offered, resting my forehead on his shoulder.

"You are not alone in this world. You have friends to help you find your place," he whispered, his lips brushing my hair.

I thought of everything in my own world I wouldn't see again. Everything now out of my reach. Most of it I could live without, and even more of it I wouldn't miss.

I'd miss Mike though, and his kids. Mike was a good partner. He'd been good to me and had always had my back.

I pulled away from Legolas. "I just need some time alone. I need to process this and wrap my head around it," I told him. I needed time to mourn the world and life I'd lost, no matter what kind of life it had been.

He stepped back, his hands on my shoulders. "Will you be safe here alone?"

Nodding, I assured him, "I'll be fine. I just need a little time to figure things out."

Legolas nodded. "I will see you soon?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be back when I'm through."

I watched him walk away and sank to sit on the forest floor. My old world was lost to me, and I had to readjust the ideas I'd been living with in this world.

* * *

><p>It was dark when I returned to the area with our tents. Everything looked quiet, but I could see Frodo lying in the grass near the small stream running near the tents. I hadn't spent much time around Frodo since we entered Lórien, but I had noticed he sat alone many nights, outside his tent and away from even the comfort of his friend Sam.<p>

I stepped closer behind him and looked down at his small curled up form. He seemed so small and frail.

_It's so far for so little a creature to travel. And he'll never be the same for his experiences. You're a soldier; you could take the Ring and bring it to Mordor. You wouldn't even need a guide. You could save him the heartache of so treacherous and perilous a path. _

_And what if the Ring can send me home? Just because Galadriel said I was stuck here doesn't make it so. The One Ring is more powerful than hers is, maybe it can send me there. _

_Soldier? Huh? I'm a Marine. Home? What?_

I was startled when I realized I was kneeling behind Frodo, reaching out to him. Maybe I wouldn't have recognized the thoughts as being out of place if not for my conversation with Legolas, but now I knew they weren't mine. I would never call myself a soldier in my own thoughts, and I had never called anywhere home, not even in thought. The Ring was calling to me, playing on my weaknesses. And I was terrified at how easily it breached my defenses and manipulated my mind.

Springing to my feet, I fled the area once again, briskly walking away.

Turning the corner, I ran into Haldir who seemed to be in a hurry himself. We reached out to steady each other as we collided.

"Where are you headed in such a hurry?" I asked.

"I go to speak with our lord and lady. There is word of Orcs nearing the northern border," he explained, seeming distracted.

"I'm coming with you," I told him, needing distraction myself after my brush with the Ring.

He grasped my hand and pulled me along behind him.

We jogged together up the stairs of the largest mallorn. Soon, we were standing on the highest talan in front of the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel's great home. They were already in front if it talking with several of Haldir's soldiers.

Haldir joined them in their discussion. I couldn't understand their words so I hung back as they talked.

After a while, Haldir bowed to Celeborn and Galadriel and stepped back over to me.

"I will take a party to the northern border to reinforce our defenses and drive the Orcs from our land," he explained.

I grabbed his hand as he started to turn away. "I'm going with you," I told him.

He looked startled. "This is not your battle," he told me.

"I want to go with you." I needed to do something. I couldn't sit around thinking about how I was without a world or that the Ring had nearly bested me.

"You cannot do this," Legolas suddenly argued appearing at my elbow.

"Why not? I'm a Marine, err, soldier. I can fight," I argued.

"You have not faced battle in this world. This world is not the same as yours, its battles and the kills are not the same," he told me, grabbing my elbow, and pulling me closer.

I yanked away angrily. "I'm stuck in this world, so it _is_ my world now. I'm just trying to find my place in it. How can you treat me like I don't understand what battle is like? I'm a Marine. I've killed before."

"Not like it shall be here. It will not be the same. I do not wish to see you hurt or killed," he growled, looking angrier than I'd ever seen him.

"I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need you to look after me."

He flinched ever so slightly at my words, but turned to the rulers of Lothlórien who were cautiously and curiously watching the scene unfold. "Tell her this is foolish; that she cannot go."

Celeborn raised an eyebrow at the visiting prince's demand. Turning to me, Celeborn asked, "Why do you wish to fight on our borders?"

"I'm a Marine—a soldier in my own world. That's all I know how to do. If I'm stuck in this world, I need to figure out where I fit in it. I need to be useful."

Galadriel turned to her husband. "Do you think it wise, my lord? What if she should be injured or perish?"

Celeborn ran a finger along his chin. "I sense you shall find your way to battle in this world regardless of the wishes of others. Who better to test your skills alongside than our own Galadhrim?" He looked to Haldir. "Do you object, marchwarden?"

Haldir shook his head. "Nay, my lord. I offer no objection to your counsel."

I smiled in satisfaction. I was still a Marine at heart, and after the turmoil of the day, it was comforting to step into a familiar role.

"I'll go get my weapons."

Haldir nodded. "I must retrieve my own gear. Meet my soldiers at the city gate."

I turned away but Legolas stepped in front of me. "Please do not go," he pleaded. "This shall not be as you think it," he continued in a whisper.

"I need to do this," I told him. I left without waiting for a reply, going to gather my weapons and meet Haldir and his men.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, I was standing on a flet beside Haldir and his soldiers. For once, I was completely unconcerned by the elves around me. With a task at hand, I didn't have time to let old fears creep in.<p>

I fingered the bow Haldir had surprised me with before leaving the city. The tension was stronger on it than my training bow had been, and while there hadn't been time to practice with it, I knew adrenaline would fuel me.

"Focus on your breathing and your form," Haldir whispered beside me, his voice barely audible. "Do not focus on your hands, your body will keep your aim steady. Stay beside me, and do not dwell on your actions."

"I was a soldier, Haldir. I know how to fight and I know how to use my adrenaline to heighten my senses and steady myself," I reminded him.

Haldir gave orders to his elves, and I felt a slithering darkness coming closer. My defenses were lowered so I could sense the approach of the Orcs, but I'd never felt thoughts that washed over me like slithering snakes. I suppressed a shudder and pushed the minds away.

Haldir gave another order beside me and all his elves reached for arrows and nocked them. I tried to move in step with them, nocking my arrow only slightly behind the others. I kept my elbow steady as I waited with the string pulled back.

As the orcs came into view, I waited with the others for Haldir's command. At his shout, we all released our arrows.

Pained cries rang out as the arrows found their marks. On either side of me, elves began firing at will, and I followed suit, nocking arrows as smoothly and efficiently as chambering slugs into a sniper rifle. I watched with the same detached satisfaction as I did in my days as a sniper as my arrows found their marks, only a few missing any Orcs.

Soon, the Orcs had pushed too close to our tree, and we were forced from the high vantage. Haldir turned and slid easily down one of the rope ladders on the far side of the flet. I shouldered my bow and followed right behind him before another elf could slide down that ladder behind the marchwarden.

I dropped to the ground as several other elves around me did as well. Swords gleamed as they were unsheathed, and I pulled my own sword out.

My arms rose overhead as I blocked an overhand blow from a grisly looking Orc. I let my sword slide to the side, deflecting the crude sword of the Orc, and pushing past it to slip my sword easily into its less protected back.

Pulling my sword free, I stepped forward to meet the next Orc, ever aware of the Orcs coming at me from other directions. Adrenaline from the battle only made my focus sharper, my mind calmer. I let my body flow automatically as my body remembered its training.

I was suddenly aware of another Orc attacking from behind me as I parried a blow from in front of me. Shoving the Orc in front of me back several steps, I stepped backwards towards the Orc behind me, turning my sword, and thrusting it behind me into the Orc's stomach.

As warm blood sprayed my back, I was aware of a pained grunt over my shoulder. One not guttural enough to be an Orc. Quickly thrusting my sword into the stomach of the Orc running at me again, I dispatched it and then turned my attention over my shoulder. I turned to see one of Haldir's brothers had been rushing towards me when an Orc landed a blow to his lower arm. Which brother it was, I couldn't recall.

Distracted and bleeding, he wasn't looking around to see the Orc behind him. As the Orc reached around him with a knife to cut his throat, I reached automatically for my Glock, knowing I wouldn't have time for pulling my bow over my head to fire an arrow. Without thought, I squeezed the trigger and shot the Orc in the forehead. Its body went limp, and then it slid to the ground with a thud.

Haldir's brother jerked and covered his ear at the sound while looking at me in shock. I glanced around to see that the last few Orcs were being dispatched around us.

Removing my bow and quiver, I yanked my jerkin off and pressed the cloth to the elf's bleeding arm, staunching the blood flow. Haldir was suddenly beside us, talking quickly with his brother. As his voice turned chiding, he turned to me and asked in the common tongue, "Are you well? Rúmil was to protect you, it was not meant to be in reverse."

"What the hell were you thinking? You could have gotten him killed. It isn't safe to be in battle when you're not focused totally on your own fighting," I snapped at him angrily.

"I know," he said contritely. "I had no wish for you to be harmed any more than I wished for Rúmil to be injured." He peered at his brother's arm. "How bad is the wound?"

I lifted the cloth away slightly. "Looks like it needs stitches," I told him.

He hissed as he looked over my shoulder at the wound. "He needs to be returned to the city immediately then."

I glanced over my shoulder at him as I kept pressure on Rúmil's arm. Rúmil said something to Haldir, but I didn't understand him.

"Don't you have any soldiers who can stitch a wound? This shouldn't wait or it will just keep bleeding," I told Haldir.

"My soldiers only know a little skill in healing wounds. I doubt any can handle this wound appropriately. Healers are stationed at the borders with patrols, but we brought none tonight in favor of haste," he said, shaking his head.

"Have you got needle and thread and everything else?" I asked.

"Yes, there are supplies stored in the flets," he answered. "Have you healing skills?"

"Yeah, all soldiers of my country are taught battlefield medicine. Show me the supplies and I'll take care of it."

He gave a few quick orders and led Rúmil and me back up to the flet, carefully helping his brother up the rope ladder. Gathering the supplies and water to clean the wound, I set to work, careful to handle the wound gingerly since there was nothing to numb his arm, though Rúmil stoically bore the pain.

As I closed the long gash along his forearm, I lectured Rúmil, "I can take care of myself. Next time, don't let yourself get distracted trying to look after someone else, no matter what your brother tells you. You're lucky this wasn't deeper or you might have lost use of your hand."

Rúmil stared at me blankly, and then looked up as Haldir translated. Rúmil laughed and rattled something back.

"He says, 'Of this there is no doubt. You fight unlike any human I have seen,'" Haldir relayed.

Rúmil rubbed and cradled his ear several times as I worked, and I felt bad for firing a shot so near his head. His sensitive ears were obviously feeling the effect.

I finished bandaging the wound and told Haldir, "He should see your healers when he reaches the city to get any herbs they have to prevent infection."

Haldir spoke to his brother and then gave orders to two other elves who helped Rúmil to climb back down from the flet.

"They will ensure Rúmil returns safely to the city. We will stay here with the others until the Orc corpses are gathered and burned," he explained to me.

I looked down at my bloody hands. I'd cleaned the black Orc blood off them, but it still coated my sleeves along with Rúmil's blood covering my hands. "I think I'll climb down and clean up in that stream," I told him, gesturing to the sounds of moving water.

He nodded and returned to giving orders.

Kneeling by the stream, I washed my hands and then closed my eyes as I listened to the quiet voices of Haldir's soldiers as they worked.

"Thank you," Haldir suddenly said from behind me. My eyes jerked open as I looked over my shoulder. "For saving my brother, and tending to him," he continued.

I stood and fully faced him. "No problem. I'm just glad he isn't hurt worse."

His eyes softened as he stepped closer. His hands landed on either side of my neck, his thumbs gently massaging my skin. His touch was both soothing and electrifying. "He is hale because of your skills in fighting and in healing. Thank you," he repeated.

He pulled me closer, tipping my head back with his thumbs under my jaw as he leaned down and captured my lips. His mouth was insistent, demanding I respond and follow the lead of his lips. I gave in fully to his demand, responding automatically to his silent but clear orders.

One of his hands slid down to my waist to pull me flush against his broad form. My tongue slid across his lower lip, making my own demand for entrance.

We explored each other leisurely until someone cleared their throat behind Haldir. I turned away in embarrassment, feeling like the guilty teenager caught with a boy after curfew.

Haldir spoke quickly to the interrupting elf. His hand touched my elbow to push my body and turn me towards him again. I kept my face carefully blank as I looked up at the marchwarden trying to read his expression. But his was as carefully blank as my own.

"Come, we should return to the flet and rest until we return to the city," he finally spoke.

I nodded mutely and followed him back to the flet.

Haldir left me to rest at the platform as he gave more directives to his elves. I found no sleep, but waited out of the way until Haldir's men had gathered the Orcs and had them burning.

He left a small detail to finish burning the corpses, and finally we were on our way back to the city.

Dawn was breaking as we entered the city gates. Silently, elves began breaking away from the group to return to their homes. Haldir walked beside me in silence until we neared my tent.

I stopped and looked up at him.

"I apologize if my actions were forward and offended you," he said, somewhat stiffly, avoiding direct eye contact.

I shook my head. "No, not at all. It's just—it's been a very long night preceded by a very long day. I'm not sure what to think or feel about anything. All I know right now is that I want to take a bath to wash the stinking Orc blood away, and get some rest."

He stared at me for a moment, and then gave a slight bow, his eyes softening, "Then I shall leave you here and hope to see you again soon. Perhaps on the training grounds?" he asked hopefully.

I nodded mutely, and turned to follow the path to what I had dubbed the women's guest bathroom. The pond I regularly bathed in was near my tent and reserved for those visiting the golden wood, particularly humans. And luckily, I had it to myself since the Fellowship was sharing another one.

I shed my clothes and weapons at the edge of the pond, diving eagerly into the water headfirst. It wasn't even a surprise when Andreth entered some time later with fresh clothes and carted away my bloodstained ones. She always seemed to show up just when I needed her.

For the first time though, she was carefully silent. And I was thankful for not having to make any kind of conversation.

Soon, I was back in my tent staring at the cloth ceiling as it rippled in the breeze.

I couldn't shut my mind off and find sleep. Scenes from the battle played over and over in my head. It was different killing up close with a sword than using a sniper rifle had been. An easy detachment keeps you from truly feeling the kills you make when you are six hundred meters and further away. I'd never kept track of my kills as a sniper, the numbers had been unimportant to me, blurring together.

Killing with a sword—feeling the spray of blood on my skin—it was different. I looked into their eyes and saw the life drain from them. Even though it had been Orcs we fought, not men, I couldn't get it out of my head. The feeling of the blood spraying my back as I'd thrust my sword backwards into the Orc behind me kept me tossing from side to side searching for comfort.

Throwing back my covers, I hastily dressed in pants, boots, and a shirt and left my tent. The hobbits were gathered together eating, but I quickly turned in the other direction.

I sat beside the stream nearby and stared at the gently flowing water, hoping it would sooth my mind. I felt Legolas sit beside me, but didn't turn to look at him.

"You were right. Is that what you want to hear? It wasn't what I was expecting. It wasn't like in my world," I bit out, staring straight ahead. I couldn't keep the bitterness from lacing my words.

"You have fought and killed in your world, but to kill even a beast such as an Orc with your blade is another matter," he quietly said. "I had killed many Orc with my arrows before I slew my first Orc facing it upon the ground. It is an altogether different kill and it changes you. The guilt at watching the life leave the eyes of a creature is very powerful. I only sought to protect you from such a feeling," he whispered.

I felt my anger and barriers towards him crumble. Unable to stop myself, I leaned sideways against him and let my head fall on his shoulder, seeking the comfort he always so readily offered. "It wasn't like I thought it would be. I've killed men before, but almost always from a distance. The one I killed with my hands was when I escaped North Korea, and I was so out of my mind I barely remember it. Killing in the heat of battle, my body just used its training and reacted, but now, I keep replaying it and remembering the feelings. Will it ever go away?"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me even closer. "Nay, such a thing does not truly go away. Or if one does stop feeling such regret and grief at killing, they have become too tainted by it. But the feeling does lessen and fade with time. It shall not linger in your heart for so long as it does now."

I closed my eyes, clinging to the hope of his words.

"Come, you should rest. When did you eat last?"

I shrugged. "I ate some fruit before I met with Galadriel."

"You have not eaten in an entire day?" he asked in shock. "I shall have to inform the hobbits they are to supervise your meals if you continue to miss so many," he playfully threatened.

I grinned at the thought, happy for his tactful lightheartedness. "You can tell the hobbits anything you want, but can we just sit here for a few moments more? Just a few moments."

"Of course," he promised, gently squeezing my shoulder, "For as long as you wish."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **A thousand thanks to everyone for reading this story and a thousand and one more thank yous to all of you who take the time to offer your thoughts! It's the high writers seek and what keeps us coming back with more to offer our readers. Thanks again!


	12. A Reason to Stay, A Reason to Go

**Chapter 12: A Reason to Stay; A Reason to Go**

We sat together in companionable silence for several moments more. I knew I should get up and either get something to eat, or try to go back to sleep. But truth was, I wasn't sure I'd get back to sleep now that the city was awake and bustling with activity. And, I was enjoying the easy tranquility.

But those things never last.

"Laney! Laney!" a clear high voice called out. I smiled at the variation of my name. The elflings hadn't liked calling me Lane, and had a hard time with the vowel pronunciations of Elaina, so they'd taken to calling me Laney.

Legolas and I pulled away from each other to turn around. Three small elflings ran up behind me while the elleth of the trio, a precocious little girl named Caladhiel, clambered into my lap without hesitation.

Grasping my hands, she pleaded brokenly, "Please! Laney play!"

I laughed at her broken Westron. The elflings had been trying to teach me the prevailing language of Lothlórien, Quenya, but I was as hopeless with it as I was with Sindarin. The elflings were proving much faster at learning bits of Westron than they were at teaching me to understand them.

Pulling Caladhiel's arms out wide, I laughed then spun her around, wrapping our arms across her stomach as she giggled. "Come on munchkin. We'll go find the others and play," I laughed.

I used my arms to tumble her through the air as I stood, uncrossing our arms as I did so, and allowing her to land on her feet. She laughed and started tugging on my arm again, dragging me over to the two boys who watched eagerly, one of them holding a leather wrapped ball. The oldest of the boys, Caladhiel's two cousins if I remembered correctly, enthusiastically held the ball out to me.

"Soccer!" he declared as I took the ball.

"You had someone make a soccer ball?" I laughed as I recognized the size and weight of the ball. Mostly I'd been playing games with the elflings that they were familiar with, but I'd been teaching them about hide-and-seek and other sports that were played in my world. Soccer and football were always favorites in the Corp because they could be played anywhere with very little equipment. I explained soccer to the elflings thinking it seemed like the safer, easier choice of the two, and told them I wished I knew how to fashion a soccer ball for them. It seemed the children beat me to it.

"Teach us," the smaller boy said, grabbing my hand from Caladhiel and pulling on me. The little elleth immediately started chattering angrily at her cousin in Quenya.

I tossed the leather ball back to the oldest boy and tugged on one of Caladhiel's golden braids to get her attention. "Come on now, no arguing," I told her with a smile before scooping her into my arms and resting her on my hip. She was about the size of an eight-year-old child, but I knew elflings were much older. Haldir had explained that they looked like small children for around fifty years, and didn't really reach adulthood until their first century had passed.

Balancing Caladhiel on my hip, I grasped the smaller boy's hand and turned to look at Legolas. "You gonna come play soccer with us for a while?" I asked with a grin.

He laughed as the small elfling continued tugging impatiently on my hand. "You still need to eat something, Elaina," he reminded.

I shrugged. "I'll grab something in camp. Maybe the hobbits will still be there and will want to play too."

Seeing that I wasn't going to be stopped—at least not with three elflings tugging on me—he shook his head and followed along behind me.

"I do not know what this 'soccer' is," Legolas called curiously, as he jogged to catch up to me.

"It's a sport we played in my world," I explained. "Don't worry, I'll teach you." A thought came to me. "Hey! You speak Quenya, right? You translate for me as I explain it to the kids. They don't understand most of my words, so it takes a while to show them things."

"Of course. I would be very pleased to assist you in this endeavor," he smiled.

The elflings continued leading towards the center of the city where a large open meadow stood and the children gathered in to play most days. However, I made a quick detour into our camp, delighted to see the hobbits still there and eating. The smaller of the boys immediately released my hand and ran excitedly over to Merry and Pippin.

"You guys wanna come play a game from my world with us?" I asked as I looked over the trays of food set out. Sam immediately started pointing out things for me to try.

"'Course, we'd love 'ta. What game was you going to teach them?" Sam asked as Merry and Pippin linked arms with the elfling and ran ahead with his older brother.

I pointed at the retreating back of the taller elfling and the leather ball he carried. "Soccer. It's a pretty easy game to learn. You'll love it," I assured Sam as I grabbed a waterskin and wrapped some fruit and bread into cloth napkin.

"Play soccer," Caladhiel enthused as she bounced on my hip.

"Yup, let's go play soccer," I assured her as I started after her cousins.

Legolas looked into my cloth napkin at what I was eating. "Elaina, you should have some meat or something more substantial than this," he admonished.

I shrugged. "I like fruit. After two years of not once tasting it, I like to eat as much fresh fruit as I can, when I can. I like meat just fine, but fruit and vegetables are still a real treat to me," I explained. I wasn't really sure where they were getting fruit in winter, although a lot of it was dried, but I was still savoring every bite.

"Yet you have not eaten in more than a day, you need something more filling than fruit," he continued admonishing.

I held up a piece of bread over my shoulder. "Bread is plenty filling. Believe me, I'm fine, I've gone far longer than a single day without food. Every soldier has. And having actually been truly starved to the point of skin and bones before, I have no desire to purposely withhold food from myself. I do like to eat when I can."

"You were starved as well in your captivity?" he asked in a hushed voice.

I glanced at Caladhiel on my hip, but she was still slightly bouncing as I walked and humming to herself, oblivious to what most of our words meant.

My eyes trailed down to take in the sight of my own body—a body I well remembered the sickly sight of after I'd escaped North Korea. "I weigh about one-forty now—a little heavier than most women my height, but I've got more muscle than them—but when I escaped, I weighed a little over ninety pounds. If I'd lost much more than that, I probably wouldn't have had the strength to even escape. I barely did as it was."

His sadness and grief shone in his eyes and voice as he spoke, "How did you escape?"

Caladhiel stopped bouncing as she heard the catch in his voice and looked up at me curiously. I forced a smile and answered lightly, "I got lucky. They got sloppy thinking I wasn't a threat anymore and sent only one guard to haul me out of my hole one day." I smiled wider and bounced the elfling on my hip. "Now, let's go play soccer," I told her as we stepped into the clearing.

* * *

><p>I collapsed on the sidelines beside one of the smallest girls of all the elflings. She'd come with her brother, but was too small to play soccer with them.<p>

She immediately climbed into my lap and began chattering to me and showing me her doll. Her words were still foreign to me, but I made lots of appreciative noises as she chattered and held her doll.

I was amazed by the open affection of the children of elves. They'd openly welcomed me into their play and showered me with the same affection they gave one another. I'd never been around kids much in my own world, but I vaguely remembered the hostility and fear I'd known as a child before I started avoiding the other children. Being different from them, I was openly castigated and ridiculed by the groups of kids.

Such a thing didn't seem to happen here. The elflings played and occasionally fought with each other here, but there was no malice to it, and they quickly resolved matters themselves without an adult having to intervene.

They were even open and trusting of me, the strange human in their midst. Mothers had been a little more cautious of course, but even they trusted me now, no longer hovering nearby to watch me.

I held the little girl in my arms as she brushed her doll's hair, and realized how lucky I was to have been able to fight on their borders and defend this. This city and her people—her children. The innocents.

Withstanding the grief of the blood I'd spilled was suddenly much easier when I saw these carefree children. I could internalize a little of that darkness and grief when I knew it helped to keep these children safe. And it allowed them to have a happy and carefree existence that I'd never known.

Frodo stopped playing and sat beside us. The girl in my lap crawled over to sit beside her new audience and happily chatted with him. Since Frodo knew some Quenya, he happily chatted back with her. I was almost afraid to look at Frodo after what happened with the Ring—afraid he would look into my eyes and know how weak I'd been, but when he turned to look up at me, there was only a happy smile lighting his face, so I returned to watching the game.

The hobbits were about the same height as the taller elflings, but were surprisingly agile on their feet, so they split up on different teams with Sam acting as goalie for one of the teams. Being taller and faster, Legolas and I had carried some of the smaller elflings around as we played, letting them "help" us. As I took my breather, Legolas still played, carrying a little boy on his shoulders.

I cheered as the two of them scored a goal on Sam who was playing goalie in the makeshift net outlined with baskets.

But like clockwork, mothers came to fetch their children for the noon meal, and our game was stopped. I reclined in the grass as Merry and Pippin walked by, arguing over what the score was and which team won.

"Come now, miss Lane. Mister Legolas said you been skipping meals, and that just won't do," Sam admonished as he stood looking down at me.

I pushed up to my elbows to see said elf standing a little ways off, grinning at having carried through with his threat. Frodo laughed from where he still sat beside me.

"Now don't you be mad at Mister Legolas, he's only looking out for you, same as what I do with Mister Frodo. And I'm gonna make sure you both eat a decent meal for once," he continued admonishing, shaking his finger at us both.

Frodo and I both stood, laughing and offering a quiet, "Yes, Sam."

I paused to kiss Sam on the forehead. "Frodo and I couldn't ask for better friends than you and Legolas," I told the blushing hobbit.

We returned to the campsite together. As always, food was already laid out, but Sam wouldn't take any himself until he was satisfied Frodo and I had more than our share heaped on our plates. Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli were there too, and it was nice to once again share a meal altogether. Even Boromir seemed in a bit better mood as Merry and Pippin excitedly explained soccer to the men and regaled them with play-by-plays of the game.

I was amazed at the speed in which the hobbits could make their food disappear. All too soon, they were off to explore the city more, but I was thankful to see that this time, they were dragging Boromir with them. Maybe it would lift his spirits somewhat.

Suddenly, as I was replacing my plate on the long table of food, an elleth stood at my elbow, bowing her head to me and speaking softly but at a furious pace. She repeated bowing her head several times as she spoke, and then grasped my hand and kissed the back of it as well.

I stared at the back of her bowed head as she continued her frantic words, completely baffling me with her actions.

"She is thanking you," Haldir said as he walked closer. I looked up to see him drawing nearer while carrying the same girl who'd been showing me her doll earlier. "For saving her husband," Haldir continued as he handed the girl to the elleth who finally was forced to release my hand.

"Oh, you're Rúmil's wife," I said, finally understanding. "Is this your daughter?" I asked her.

"Yes," Haldir answered for her, "and she is my niece."

"Well, tell her it's no problem. I'm just glad he's alright," I replied.

Haldir translated and then the elleth bowed again before hurrying away with her little girl.

"Rúmil's really doing okay?" I asked.

"My brother is very well. He mentioned his ear still rings however," he answered with a raise of his eyebrow.

I laughed and gestured to the gun on my hip. "Yeah, sorry about that, I guess they're a bit loud for your sensitive ears, when I saw Rúmil was in trouble, I just pulled it without thinking." I'd told Haldir about my guns and weapons in my world, but I don't think he'd really understood them or how loud they were.

Haldir waved it off. "I am certain he will be fine in time. Vanya is certainly pleased with your swift action to save her husband."

"I didn't realize Rúmil was married. I thought he was your younger brother."

"Both of my brothers are younger," Haldir laughed. "And both are married as well," he added.

I looked him up and down. "But not you?"

He laughed again. "Nay, not I. I have not yet found one who appeals to me." He returned the favor of looking me up and down.

I looked away uncomfortably.

Haldir cleared his throat though a twinkle remained in his eye, obviously enjoying my discomfort. "I came by to see if you wished to accompany me. I must visit several of the warden stations along the border to ensure they are well supplied in the event of further Orc attacks," he told me, stepping closer. "You were able to keep up quite well with my men on our trek to the northern border and I wondered if you would care to keep me company."

Playing soccer with the kids had actually energized me, and I looked forward to a chance at stretching my legs again and exploring the woods. "Sure! I'd love to," I told him. Turning towards my tent, I added, "Just let me grab my things."

After donning the rest of my weapons, I was ready to head out with Haldir. Leaving my tent, I saw Legolas waiting for me.

"Hey, we were gonna head out and make some stops at the warden stations, you wanna come with us?" I asked him.

He stared at me for a moment, his face void and impassive. Then he slowly shook his head. "I cannot. I promised Gimli I would spend the afternoon with him. He wishes for me to show him the forgery and blacksmith. As dwarves are the masters of metalworking, he wished to see the skill of the eldar."

"Oh, that's too bad. But I mean, it's great you're spending time with Gimli. I'm glad you two aren't spending all your time trying to insult each other anymore," I laughed, genuinely happy with the development. I knew they would form a lasting friendship that would one day see them both through until they reached Valinor. And I felt privileged to see it blossom.

"Are you certain you wish to do this, Elaina?" Legolas asked lowly, stepping forward to grasp my hand.

I looked at him curiously, but couldn't read anything in his face. "Yeah. I told you, I did a lot of scouting in the Marines. I want to feel useful while I'm here." I leaned forward and gave Legolas a quick hug. "Have fun with Gimli," I whispered in his ear.

Pulling away, I turned and jogged over to Haldir. He stared over my shoulder at Legolas for a moment, but when I turned to look, Legolas was already walking away.

"Shall we?" Haldir said, gesturing towards the path to the city gate.

I nodded and together we set off at a brisk jog.

* * *

><p>Over the next several days, Haldir and I jogged to the different warden stations and back each day. When we reached the station, we only stayed long enough for Haldir to talk to his men and assess their conditions before we'd start back for the city.<p>

When we returned each night, Haldir would send runners with the supplies they needed, or send more troops if he deemed a station needed more men to defend against the increasing threat of Orcs. The next day, we'd begin again, heading out for a different station.

The number of stations surrounding the borders of the forest surprised me. These Galadhrim didn't mess around when it came to protecting their lands, and I felt honored to be able to assist them.

Haldir was surprised at how easily I was able to keep up with him, especially on jogs to the further out stations. Those trips took all day, and even at a steady jog there and back, we wouldn't return to the city until after nightfall. But not once did I fall behind.

It felt like being in the Marine Corp again. I felt useful, like I was scouting with my partner, watching each other's backs.

And Haldir was an easygoing companion. Able to keep up lighthearted banter even at a steady jog, but also able to lapse into comfortable silence. And I relished not having this male constantly hovering because I was a woman or suggesting I take easier tasks. He seemed to understand the deep-seated need I had to prove I could perform as well as the men. Or ellyn, I guess.

We finally stopped jogging one day at a spring to refill our waterskins. I knelt to splash the cool water on my face, washing away the sweat and grim.

Haldir crouched beside the water, pulling out food wrapped in a cloth bundle. We usually ate as we jogged, but Haldir obviously decided we were making good time today.

I took the opportunity to rebraid my hair, finger combing the loose hair and tangles. My hair had filled with curls and waves from my sweat, so I pulled my hair over one shoulder and quickly started a herringbone braid near my ear. It always looked best when my hair was wild and full of waves to give it body.

"I have not seen such a braid before," Haldir commented as he ate. "It is very beautiful."

"Thanks. I've never been good at doing anything elaborate with my hair. Women in the military are supposed to wear their hair up in a French braid or in a bun, but I could only ever manage a bun. A herringbone braid is easy enough and looks pretty good too," I told him as I finished the braid and tied a leather thong around the end.

He handed me my share of food as I came to sit beside him.

"I spoke with the son of Arathorn this morning before we left," Haldir suddenly said.

"Oh? What did Aragorn have to say?" I asked. I was just thankful that over the last several weeks things had gone back to the way it had been before between Aragorn and me. Or at least, Aragorn had decided to pretend that nothing had happened between us. Not that I minded.

"He told that the Fellowship would be meeting this eve to discuss their departure tomorrow."

My heart clenched at his words. "Already?" I asked in surprise.

"A month has already passed, Lane," he laughed. Sobering, he continued, "Orcs have continued attacking our borders in increasing numbers. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn have said it is time for them to continue their journey."

"Oh, it doesn't seem like a month has gone by," I whispered, unsure what to say.

"Time passes unnoticed in an Elven home," he answered. "Many years can pass without notice in our realm. The years are not felt here as a mortal feels them in their homes."

Haldir cleared his throat and looked away from me, gazing at the gentle flow of the spring. "I asked the human if you would continue with them, but he did not know. He told the choice was yours alone whether to continue on their path."

I followed his gaze as I picked at my bread, my appetite suddenly gone. Instead, I threw bits of the bread into the stream, watching small fish hungrily snatch at them. "I don't know what I should do. Or where I belong," I whispered.

Haldir turned and grasped my hands in his. They were warm and calloused from shooting his bow, a lot like Legolas's hands, but I felt uneasy by the contact. I'd grown used to Legolas's touch—his closeness. This contact felt somehow strange and foreign.

"You could stay here. With me," Haldir whispered fervently. My attention immediately pulled away from our hands up to his imploring eyes.

"What do you mean?" I gasped in surprise.

"I had given up hope of finding someone to share my life with. No elleth has truly tempted me before. Never have I wanted to marry an elleth whom I would ever leave behind as I perform my duties. Long have I dreamed of finding a wife to stand and fight by my side. One who understands me and what I do."

He cupped my cheek with one hand and I couldn't help closing my eyes and leaning into that warmth. "You have been happy here," he continued. "I have seen the evidence of it. Your smile as you play with the elflings warms my heart. And you could be ever at my side, fighting and defending our borders."

My breath caught at his words. His offer was everything I had wanted and could hope for. My husband had constantly fought with me over my military service, and I saw the handwriting on the wall in our arguments, saying we'd have the same fights if I had quit and worked with him as a cop instead. But Haldir had never tried stopping me from coming with him or fighting on the border. And after proving myself to him during that first battle, I knew he wouldn't hesitate to trust me again.

"But I'm not an elf," I told him, still astonished by his words.

"It matters not to me. No elleth would stand at my side as you have. I crave that, not an elleth," he assured me.

"I'll die one day."

"Yet every day until then we could be happy."

I shook my head, no words coming out and not knowing what to say.

"You have been happy here. You could stay and be happy with me," he repeated, his thumb stroking my cheek.

My eyes closed once again at the sensation.

"Can I have time to think about this?" I whispered.

My eyes were still closed, but I felt Haldir's body moving closer. His lips pressed to mine in a surprisingly soft and chaste kiss. "You shall certainly have your time," he whispered next to my ear, before he pressed another soft kiss to my cheek. As he withdrew, he pulled his hand away from my other cheek, and I finally opened my eyes to gaze into his.

The open, earnest look in his eyes made me look away. Standing, I said, "We should get back to the city."

"Of course," he replied.

* * *

><p>After entering the city, we silently went our own ways. I knew I had a lot to think about—likely I'd be up all night considering Haldir's offer.<p>

As I walked back into camp, I saw that the Fellowship was gathered around the table nearest the fire.

Aragorn looked up as I got closer. "Join us," he invited, gesturing to a bench beside him. "We were discussing the continuation of our journey."

I took the bench, smiling when Gimli poured a mug and passed it to me. "Beer?" I asked in pleasant surprise when I tasted the cool liquid in my mug.

"These elves are surprisingly hospitable, Lass," Gimli laughed. He sounded like he'd sampled quite a bit of the beer himself.

"Have you any words of advice for our journey," Aragorn asked.

I shook my head. "I told you. I can't tell you what's gonna happen or what to do. It would change things. I'm really sorry," I told Aragorn, laying my hand on his arm.

He actually smiled kindly, and placed his hand over mine. "I know," he softly answered. "I understand."

I returned to happily nursing my beer as the others talked about their coming journey and what their path should be. I barely heard their conversation or their heated words as they argued about where they should go from Lórien. Instead, I stared at the ornately carved white wooden mug in my hands and considered what _I_ should do. What I _would_ do.

Haldir's offer was more than appealing, I couldn't deny that. Part of me had always dreamed of finding a man like this—even if he was an elf. There was an easy, almost effortless companionship between us. We could laugh, play, and fight alongside each other with such ease.

And hadn't I thought just a few weeks ago that being in Lothlórien was almost like paradise? Maybe this could finally be home. The idea was more than tempting.

Realizing a silence had filled the air, I broke away from my musings and looked up and around the table. The others were looking down at their own mugs in silent contemplation.

I looked up to see Legolas sitting across from me, a contemplative look on his face as he considered me.

"Shall you come with us when we depart, Elaina?" Legolas asked me.

"'Course she will. Why wouldn't she?" Pippin declared.

The others looked up at me curiously, waiting for my answer.

"I don't know," I honestly answered.

"You are certainly welcome to join us," Aragorn told me with a dip of his head. "You have been a welcome companion."

"We are no longer the Nine," Legolas broke in. "With you, we would once again be the Nine. Why would you not come with us?"

I looked down guiltily. "Haldir has asked me to stay here. With him," I quietly admitted.

A loud scraping noise startled me into looking up again. Legolas stood across the table staring down at me, a shocked look on his face and the bench behind him shoved back from the table. "And shall you?" he whispered incredulously.

"I haven't decided," I admitted, staring up into his eyes and trying to read the emotion there. Before I could say anything else, he turned to stalk silently away from the table.

"You aren't coming with us?" Merry asked in a quiet voice.

"I haven't decided," I repeated.

Aragorn broke the heavy silence that followed. "Whatever your choice, you shall be welcome to join us, but we shall be leaving in the morning."

I nodded and stood from the table as well. Aragorn grabbed my wrist to stop me. "If you choose to stay, Haldir is an honorable ellon. But if you choose to come with us, you shall greatly please a number of our group." He released my wrist with an almost meaningful nod, and I continued away from our campsite, looking for somewhere quiet to think.

Walking on autopilot, I came around the corner walking towards the stream near our camp. I stopped when I saw Legolas already standing at the stream.

Before I could turn around, he seemed to sense my presence and he turned towards me. Rather than cowardly walking away, I closed the distance between us.

"Will you stay here, or will you come with us?" Legolas immediately asked.

"I don't know. It's a tempting offer Haldir makes," I told him.

"Do you love him?" he pushed, stepping closer until our bodies were almost touching.

I sputtered but couldn't come up with an answer.

"You do not love him," he told me confidently, his eyes narrowing.

His self-assured declaration only served to anger me. "How do you know? Maybe one day I could love him." I pushed angrily on his chest, forcing him back a step. "I don't belong anywhere in this world, and Haldir's offering me a place in it. I'd be a fool to pass that up. I could have a home here. An actual home. And I could be happy for once. Haldir wouldn't stop me from fighting by his side. I could be happy and useful."

"What about me?" Legolas asked as I felt a wave of sadness from him. He looked away. "That is, what of the Fellowship? The hobbits and the others shall miss your presence if you stay."

My heart lurched at his words against my will. My head told me there was nothing but friendship between us, but my heart yearned for something I feared to reach out for or even name.

Haldir was fun and easygoing, but Legolas soothed and touched something within me I hadn't known could be reached.

I stepped closer to Legolas again and reached out to clasp his hand between mine. The words screaming from my heart tumbled out before my head could censure them. "Give me a reason to go. Give me a reason."

He stared at me for a moment, and then his face fell. "I cannot," he whispered.

I dropped his hand and turned away. "I guess that's my answer," I whispered in return, fighting the tears that suddenly threatened to fall.

As I started away, Legolas grasped my elbow and turned me partially towards him. My eyes were still closed against the pain, but I felt him press something hard and smooth into my hands. I barely caught Legolas's whispered words as I turned away again, "I hope you find your happiness, Elaina."

"Me too," I whispered brokenly to myself as my fist clenched around the object in my hands. "Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry I didn't update sooner, I've been trying to stick to updating once a week, but the past two weeks were kinda hectic for me. However, here's this installment, and thank you to everyone for all of your kind words and fantastic support. Every email I get with a review just makes me excited to return to this story! Thanks again!


	13. Protect the Innocence

**Chapter 13: Protect the Innocence**

My feet carried me away unerringly. My mind had shut down, and as it always had for me, survival instinct took over to control my body and further shield my mind. It wasn't protecting me from flying bullets this time, but somehow, the pain in my heart seemed far more threatening—far more real.

When my eyes focused on my surroundings again, I was looking out over the canopy of the city. The great silver trees were still bare, yet somehow those branches swaying in the breeze seemed long and elegant, like the slender fingers of a pianist. The moonlight from the slivered moon cast a pale light over the trees, giving them a ghostly white visage instead of their normal silver sheen.

The flet I stood on was simple and plain. Only a few benches lining one side of the railings around the edge of the small platform.

Haldir had brought me up here a few times. An observation platform he'd explained it as. And at the moment, I needed nothing more than to simply observe the sky above, and the city below. And forget my inner turmoil.

The platform was in the same tree as Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel's talan, but off another branch that lifted above the surrounding treetops. I'd enjoyed coming up here to see the sunrise or sunset over the city with Haldir. I enjoyed seeing the sun and sky even more. Seeing the moon tonight was nearly as good.

Perhaps there was more Fae blood in me than I gave credit for. Or cared to think about.

"Lane?" a voice called softly from behind.

I turned from the railing to see Haldir stepping onto the platform from the stairs. His cloak—usually an ever-present part of his uniform—was missing. He also wore no jerkin over his linen shirt tonight, which was also pulled loose from his pants, the wrinkles making apparent where the tails had once been tucked in.

Glancing at my wristwatch, I confirmed what my internal clock was saying: it was well after midnight.

"What are you still doing up?" I questioned.

"I would ask you the same, Lane," Haldir countered.

I turned back to the railing with a heavy sigh, leaning down to brace myself against the smooth wood by my forearms. Haldir stepped beside me and mirrored my stance, letting silence fill the air.

Finally, when I could stand the deafening quiet no more, I spoke. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around everything you're offering and what I'm going to do."

He briefly looked confused by my vernacular, but then nodded as though he'd heard me say what he expected.

"I saw you climbing the stairs as I readied for sleep and thought you could use the company. You do not seem quite yourself." He looked across the treescape, and then gently added, "I would help you if you wish it. If there are questions I can answer, please, ask them."

Turning my head towards him, I spoke. "You barely know me. I've only been here a month. Why are you asking me to stay? What do you see happening between us?"

He twisted his head to face me as well, but we both kept our bodies parallel to each other, still braced on the railing.

"You could live with me. Be my wife," he answered simply.

If only things could be that simple.

I turned away again, to gaze across the treetops. It was easy to recall my month in Lórien. Easy to remember how simple things were and happy I'd been. Perhaps in another life, I could have easily been tempted by that taste of paradise.

But having sampled it before, I knew it couldn't last.

"I married my first husband because things seemed happy and because I was content. I thought love would follow. Or maybe that love didn't really exist and simple contentment was more than I could hope for. But it didn't last and I grew bored with playing wife to him.

"In truth, I left him—at least in every way save for actually divorcing him—long before he started cheating on me and finally left me. And a part of me was relieved when I found out it was over and he'd remarried. I felt guilty for so long for marrying him when I knew my heart wasn't in it.

"And I know in my heart of hearts, I'd be damning myself to the same mistake if I told you I'd stay here with you. Eventually, I'd grow restless and be busting to get out of here. And then, where would that leave you? I may not fully understand elves, but you said so yourself, elves give their hearts easily and they fade when they're heartbroken. You wouldn't be like my ex-husband to simply remarry and start over."

I sighed again, feeling like I'd run out of steam, and glanced over to see Haldir turned towards me, his brows furrowed.

"You have been married?" he questioned after several moments.

"Yeah, once, years ago now," I answered. Reading the surprise on his face, I gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I didn't tell you that, did I?"

"No."

I ran a tired hand over my face and answered grimly, "See. You don't know me."

No one did.

"Then you will not stay with me?" he asked, looking angry—though whether over the things I hadn't told him or the fact that he knew what my answer would be, I couldn't tell.

"It wouldn't last, and it wouldn't be fair to you. You can't love someone you don't even know."

My first husband hadn't known me either. Hadn't known about my telepathy or my twisted heritage. Hadn't understood why I hated going to bars or going clubbing with him. I'd never told him that the pressing of that many drunken thoughts on my mind was overwhelming and souring to my own mood.

I'd never told him about the danger of the homicidal half of my father's family. Hell, I would never even tell him what I did in the Marines or where I was being stationed throughout the war.

Small wonder we'd never worked out. Hard to make something work when every word out of my mouth had been lies.

I'd lied to everyone my entire life.

It had been the last thing I remembered my mother telling me before she killed herself when I was barely past a toddler. To never trust anyone and never tell anyone what I could do. You can only trust yourself, she'd told me.

And I always had trusted in only myself.

Mike had been my partner on the force, but not even he knew anything real about me. Not that I'd been married, nothing that had happened during the war, and certainly nothing about my mixed blood.

No one knew me.

"What is that in your hand?" Haldir asked, his voice quiet and drawn.

I looked down at the railing and saw my left hand clenched around something. Legolas had pressed something into my hands, I belatedly remembered.

Turning it over, I opened my palm and saw something carved out of wood. The wood was darkened from the skin oils of someone's hand. The obvious hours in their grasp had darkened the wood and smoothed the edges, softening it.

"My god!" I softly exclaimed as I turned it again. Recognition hit me. I traced my fingers over the face of the smiling girl. Her smile was one I'd recognized but never myself known as a child.

It was a smile I'd carved with my own hands.

The very first night I'd found myself in this world, I'd asked Gandalf about the possibility of getting back to my world. When he hadn't told me what I wanted to hear, I'd sought to distract my mind with my hands. That night, I'd sat and carved the image of a happy child. When morning had finally dawned, I'd left the figurine behind.

I'd never expected to see it again, but here I held it, in my own hands once again.

"It's a figurine I carved," I whispered.

"It is stunning," Haldir observed.

I nodded mutely, thinking it hadn't been so stunning, last I'd seen it.

The girl was far more detailed than I'd carved her. I'd focused on her face and head, giving her ringlets of curls, and a cherubic smile.

Now, the girl's hands and even her dress were more finely carved. What had been harsh edges, now formed gentle waves of fabric, with her hands softly grasping folds of the skirt as she shyly looked up through her eyelashes.

It really was beautiful now.

And I was shocked by the realization that not only had Legolas picked it up that morning and kept it, he'd obviously spent a lot of time not only holding it but also carving on it himself.

_I can't believe he picked this up and kept it._

"Of whom do you speak?" Haldir asked, making me realize I must have given voice to the thought.

"Legolas. I can't believe he kept this. I carved it right after showing up in this world, but I left it lying in the grass when we moved on that morning. I'm amazed he picked it up, kept it, and even carved more on it," I incredulously explained.

"Yet he returned it to you?"

"Yeah, this evening. I told him and the others about your offer, and he said goodbye and gave it back."

"He said, 'goodbye'?" He looked at me curiously and gently took the figurine from my hands to turn it over in his. "You told him you would stay?"

"No. I said I hadn't decided. Aragorn and the others asked me to go with them. Legolas got mad at me and gave me that," I said with a nod towards the statue in his hands, "and said he hoped I was happy."

"He loves you," Haldir suddenly stated matter-of-factly.

"What!" I sputtered. "Legolas?" I shook my head. "He wanted me to go for the hobbits' sake, and so that they would still be 'the Nine.' There's nothing more than friendship between us." The last utterance came out barely a whisper as my mind conjured our discussion again. I pushed it away, not wanting to remember the folly my heart had dared yearn for.

_No matter what I'd briefly hoped for, friendship is all that stands between us. Legolas made that clear. _

I wouldn't let my heart foolishly dwell on impossibilities. I had survived as long as I had by keeping sight of what was the reality of my situations. Not dreams.

"There's only friendship," I whispered, though, I wasn't sure if I trying to convince Haldir or myself.

"Of course," Haldir softly demurred, handing the figurine of the girl back to me.

I traced the smiling lips of the statue, once again remembering my mother's warnings. Faithfully I'd heeded them my whole life.

Until I'd come here.

I'd told Haldir a little bit about my telepathy, but I was startled to realize I'd told Legolas far more as we sat beneath the stars. Legolas knew about my husband, too. As well as my homicidal father.

He even had managed to talk me into telling him about what happened in North Korea. Or, most of it anyway. Things I had refused to speak of even to the military shrinks—not that they could have helped me.

I'd told him so many things that I'd never breathed a word of to anyone before.

Why?

Why had I trusted him and told him so much?

And why had it felt so natural?

"Will you go with the others when they leave on the morrow?" Haldir asked, once again leaning on the railing and looking over the city.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I have no reason to go."

_Give me a reason to go. Give me a reason, I had pleaded. _

_I cannot, was his simple answer. _

I shook myself from the memory as I straightened to stand. "I have no reason," I repeated.

* * *

><p>I'd left Haldir to his own musings on the observation platform and returned to the forest floor.<p>

My reason for staying had effectively vanished, but no more did I have a reason to go.

I was as lost as I'd been the moment I'd woken up here in this world.

It startled me to realize I'd found my way back to Galadriel's garden. I hadn't been back here since she informed me I was stuck here. My treks through the city had completely detoured around this part, making it easier to forget that I was truly lost and without even a world of my own.

The garden seemed different now. A strange dichotomy of winter-bare land and a ghastly ethereal beauty highlighted by the stretches of pale moonlight and deep shadows. Yet I knew this garden—and this forest—would never again hold the beauty of the Galadhrim's fond remembrance.

I didn't know if it was my own knowledge of what was to come that skewed my perception of the glowing light and deepening shadows, or if it was my own sense of helplessness and hopelessness.

Maybe it was both.

"One oft lends itself to the other," a light melodious voice spoke behind me.

I twirled around to see Galadriel now standing before me.

Realizing she'd read my thoughts, I hastily threw up my barriers to shield my mind.

"It is truly amazing how you are able to shut me out like that," Galadriel commented with a smile. I noticed this time she'd been prepared for me shutting her out and didn't visibly shudder as she had before.

She gestured to one of the many benches littering her garden and proceeded to walk to it without looking to see if I would follow. But with a sigh, I did just that.

The elleth sat elegantly on the bench and waved her hand to the spot beside her, indicating for me to join her. As I sat, I noticed that she wore another plain, white dress, and that ironically, her feet were bare.

I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged and turned partly on the bench to face Galadriel.

"Your mind is troubled," the elleth stated.

"Yes," I nodded, my hands fidgeting in my lap, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now or where I'm supposed to go."

"You could remain here," she responded.

Somehow, I was surprised by the thought that she knew about Haldir's offer to me. But I also knew that she seemed to have knowledge of everything that went on in her city.

"I turned his offer down. I can't do that to him. Eventually, I'd grow bored or restless here, and I'd want to move on. I can't stay and lead him on. It wouldn't be fair to him."

"I am aware that you have declined my marchwarden's offer. Yet, I would offer to allow you to remain in the city if it was your heart's wish," she countered.

I looked at her in surprise, my hands stilling to grasp my knees as I leaned forward. "You would offer me a place in your city?"

"Of course. If it was truly your wish to remain."

"What about Haldir?"

"Haldir is a strong ellon, one whom still holds your friendship in high regard. I am pleased to see that your wisdom prevailed and you denied his offer, but your friendship need not end. He has been happier these past days then I've seen him in some ages," the elleth explained with sagacity.

"But you think I made the right choice turning down his offer?" I asked, growing confused by his words.

Her smile was kind and almost motherly, and I remembered that this elleth, though eternally youthful and beautiful in appearance, was actually grandmother to Arwen, the Evenstar.

"Hearts of loneliness and longing oft misinterpret their own designs, the wishes and dreams of their inner desires make them deem that they have finally found what they yearn for."

I was silent for a few moments.

"In other words you think I'm lonely and it's making me believe I'm finding someone to fill that loneliness?" I asked, my expression drawing together in consternation.

She laughed, that light tinkling sound that only elves could make. "I had meant Haldir in truth, but one draws their own conclusions. Haldir has been alone for many ages now, and though I do desire to see his loneliness ended, you were right to deny him. In the end, it would only lead to heartache for you both. That is not something I desire for either of you." Her expression sobered as she spoke.

"But you're still offering me a place here?" I asked, my confusion apparent in my voice, even to me.

"If it is what you desire," she repeated. "I have no wish to see either of you harmed by your loneliness. If your friendship eases you both, then so be it."

I felt flattered by her offer, but somehow, something about the thought of staying just didn't seem right.

Of course, my heart clenched at the knowledge that I really didn't have any reason to go either.

"Your friends shall miss you if you stay," Galadriel stated, breaking into my thoughts. "Legolas shall feel far more than that."

I pulled my knees to my chest and folded my arms across them before resting my chin on my folded arms. "Legolas and the others will be fine," I assured, maybe myself more so than the elleth. "I asked him for a reason to go with them, but he didn't have one for me," I admitted. "I guess the only place left for me is to stay here."

And I felt my stomach drop at my own words.

"You protect yourself and your heart zealously. Yet you have ever sought to protect others so zealously. What will you do when protecting those you wish to shield from harm, puts your heart at risk as well?"

I looked at her in surprise, and felt her breach my defenses as images of Merry and Pippin flooded my mind. I saw the happy images of them laughing and colluding with each other, and I saw them joining me in my play with the elflings of this city. They were so innocent and childlike themselves. And it shocked me to realize how much I feared and dreaded what would happen to them on their next leg of the journey.

Their captivity by the Uruk-hai I knew would not permanently harm or damage them, on the contrary, I knew it would force them to mature and age and would serve them well when they one day returned to their own lands.

But even now, before it had even happened, I mourned the loss of their naïve view of the world.

I knew that even though they would grow up, their time in captivity would forever mark their hearts and spirits. And I wanted nothing more than to shield them from it. I knew from experience how much even their short captivity would mar their youthfulness.

Boromir too for that matter. I knew I couldn't change his fate—too many factors hinged on it—but I couldn't help but seeing him standing alone trying to protect the hobbits. I couldn't change his fate, but he didn't deserve to stand alone.

Question was: What was I going to do about it?

I knew I might very well die trying to stand beside Boromir to protect the hobbits, but could I live with myself if I didn't stand there out of fear?

"I have to go with them," I whispered to Galadriel.

She smiled knowingly. "Andreth has already packed your things and seen to it that you have enough supplies for your journey."

I looked at her in surprise. "You knew I would go?"

"I see many things in my mirror, but more than that, I see the hearts of others. In your heart, I have seen your desire to protect. Your future remains clouded to me, but I knew you would not stay," she admitted.

I shook my head. "Thank you. For speaking with me and for everything you've done for me and given me. There's nothing I can do to repay you."

She looked at me, a meaningful expression in her eyes as she pinned me with her stare. "You can repay me, and yourself, by finally making a choice."

"I thought I just did," I replied, confusion coloring the words.

"Make your choice and finally _accept_ it."

"I don't understand."

She glanced meaningfully at the gun always present on my hip. I feared ever leaving it in my tent and allowing some unsuspecting elf to find it.

"You ever cling to the hope that you may yet return to your own world. Until you make a choice to live in this one and accept that choice and this world, you shall ever be separated from both worlds and cast adrift. Truly make a choice."

I finally let my feet drop back down to the ground and let my fingers graze the butt of my pistol. But it wasn't my gun I reached for next. My hand slid into the jerkin I still wore and pulled out my wallet.

She was right, I still kept my wallet and all of things from my old world, refusing to truly let go of them. Even my cell phone and radio were in a pack in my tent, worthless here, save as the ever shrinking promise of returning to my own world. And so long as I still clung to those items, I'd never really let myself move on and accept that I lived in this world now.

I looked up at Galadriel. "You're right. I know what I have to do."

Without a word to her, I got up and headed for my destination.

Soon, I was standing at the city's blacksmith shop. Surprisingly, he was even present and still working. Through pantomimes and my pigeon Sindarin, I was able to get him to stoke his forge until the coals burned bright and red. Removing my clips from my guns, I took out the bullets and then tossed the empty clips along with the guns into the forge. The radio and cell phone I'd detoured to my tent for went in next. My wallet, minus a few old pictures, followed.

Finally, I stood before the blaze of the forge, holding a few old pictures, my dog tags, and a few other small items from my world. I could let my old life and my old world go, but I still needed to hold on to a few things. I'd worn those dog tags for too many years to simply toss them away. They were a reminder of everything I'd seen and done to become who I was. The pictures were mostly old photographs of Marine Corp buddies. They too were a part of making me the woman I'd become. And they were good reminders of some of my better days.

"Le hannon," I said to the blacksmith, "thank you" being one of the few phrases I remembered Legolas teaching me in Sindarin.

I slid the old photos back into my jerkin, settling them over my heart, and replaced the dog tags around my neck. I had let go of my old world, but it seemed to me to be a good idea to keep a few anchors to my past to remind me of where I'd come from.

I gestured to the ellon's workbench, silently asking if I could use it and his tools. He silently nodded in return, and I set about laboriously dismantling my bullets. Even without a gun to fire them, they were still dangerous.

The blacksmith watched curiously for a few moments, but soon returned to his work.

When I was finished, I tossed the empty casings in the forge, stirring the coals to ensure that everything had melted. The bowl of gunpowder I silently carried to Galadriel's garden and gently spread over several of her dormant plants and flowers. In such small quantities, the powder wouldn't be dangerous and the nitrates in it would act as a fertilizer. Maybe it would give the elleth's flowers one last beautiful bloom before she sailed into the West.

Giving a final silent thanks to the elleth for all that she had provided me, I turned away to walk back to the campsite and my tent.

I didn't know what tomorrow or our journey would bring, but I knew regardless of any foolish hopes I'd harbored, I'd found new purpose. No matter what, I'd protect Merry and Pippin as best I could. And I wouldn't let Boromir stand alone. I wouldn't allow him to die alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Let me know what you think!

Also, I have another short chapter written up from Legolas's POV, but I haven't been positive whether or not to use it. Your thoughts? Do you want to read it?


	14. Uncertain Futures

**Well, survey results say that you guys want to hear from our elf. So, here you kiddies go! It's short, so I decided to get it out and not make you wait. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 14: Uncertain Futures**

I watched in silence as she walked away from me. Long I had heard others of my race speak of the heartaches they felt before they allowed themselves to fade. As a youth, I had scoffed at the idea. Even as I matured, I had not truly understood the depth of emotion they must have felt to allow themselves to fade into the Halls of Mandos.

Yet, I felt that depth of emotion now. My heart yearned to reach out and stop Elaina from walking away from me. It screamed at me a thousand different reasons to give her.

But I could not.

She was happy here. I had seen such smiles light her face as she ran and played with the elflings of the city. Years fell away from her when she played and smiled with them. The smile that haunted my every dream and waking thoughts.

Yet, what had I to offer her?

My path was bound to the Fellowship. My destiny uncertain.

I knew not whether I would ever even see my home again, let alone have one to offer her one day. Loath I was to face it, but the Galadhel could offer her more than I could. He could offer Elaina a home and safety that was beyond my reach. He could offer her the continued happiness that caused her face to light into such smiles every day. Her past had been darkened by such horrors that I could barely even fathom, and I knew she had still kept some of the darkest horrors from me, shielding me from the worst horrors. She deserved something bright and good in her future. Her future was more than entitled to happiness and safety for once. She deserved to finally have a home.

I could only offer her uncertainty.

Still, Galadriel's silent offer weighed heavily upon my mind. On entering the city, she had looked into the hearts and minds of all the Fellowship, weighing our courage and testing our resolve. Offering to each of us what we wanted and what tempted us most. I know not what had been in the minds of most the others, but images of Elaina had been my offering. Images of her smiling and happy as she walked by my side in the woods of my father's realm.

Mirkwood lay only just to the north. I could take Elaina and return her to the safety of my father's kingdom. I could ensconce her within his realm and ensure her safety.

Yet, I would have to leave the Fellowship behind to do so. Though Elrond had laid no oath upon us to travel further than our conscience or resolve could bear, I knew my own will would not allow me to tarry from my path. I had committed myself to this journey, and I could not turn away now. If we did not see the Ring destroyed, not even my realm would be safe for Elaina.

I had to let her go, and ensure that she would be safe here in Lothlórien. I would ensure that she could find happiness and love here, though it cleaved my heart in two. Her wishes and desires would be honored by me. If she loved the marchwarden, I would bury my heart and continue to wish her well.

Tamping my emotions down, I turned and walked back to our campsite and the tent I shared with Estel. Yet, something of my emotions must have shone through on my face as I entered our tent. The ranger had been reclining on his cot and glanced up at my entrance, but sat up in alarm as I walked closer.

"What is wrong, my friend?" he asked quietly in Sindarin. We spoke Westron around the others as was necessary, but when it was just the two of us, we slipped easily into conversing in the language we were both more comfortable with.

"Nothing is wrong, Aragorn," I assured him, using his given name instead of the name he had been known by as a child.

"The drawn expression on your face and the sadness in your eyes say otherwise. What has happened?"

I suppose it was too much to hope for in trying to fool him. Human though he was, he was of the Dúnedain and the elvish blood in him made him more perceptive than other humans. A quality, I ruefully recalled, that Elaina shared with him. Many nights as we stared at the stars, she was able to read my expressions like a book, knowing there were thoughts I was keeping and trying to hide from the world.

"I spoke more with Elaina," I admitted softly.

"What was said to cause such grief in your eyes?" he asked, standing from his cot and crossing the tent. He gestured to the small table in the corner as he sat, and I reluctantly joined him.

"She shall remain in the city when we depart," I told instead of delving into the words we had exchanged.

"She told you she was staying?" Aragorn asked, clearly surprised.

I did not answer.

"She actually told you she was staying?" Aragorn repeated.

"No," I admitted, "but she shall remain here with Haldir."

"How can you be so certain if she has not said that she shall?" Aragorn pressed.

My temper broke. Standing, I angrily asked, "For what reason would she not stay? What reason can I give her to follow us into the wilds and into danger? She loves the marchwarden."

The ranger calmly stood as well and asked, "What exactly did she say, my friend? Did she say she loved Haldir?"

I shook my head and quietly confessed the words still whispering tantalizingly in my ears. "She asked me to give her a reason to go. Yet what reason can I give her when she loves the Galadhel? I have nothing to offer her that could so change her heart."

My body felt weak and I once again collapsed into the chair I had just sprung from.

"She asked you to give her a reason to go with us instead of remaining here?" Aragorn repeated as he too slowly retook his seat.

I smiled ruefully at his careful manner, as though he were afraid of startling a skittish deer in the forest. "Yes," I answered shortly.

"What was your response to her?"

"That I could give her no reason. What else was I to have said? If she has given her heart to Haldir, there is nothing more to be done save ensure that she shall have the happiness here she deserves."

Aragorn chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "You fool of an elf," he stated with a smile.

I bristled at his tone, but he continued before I could challenge his words.

"She does not love him," he assured me.

I remembered my own desperate words to her as such, and her own angry response. She had clearly disagreed with my assessment.

"She does. She must," I attested.

He shook his head. "Then why did she ask you to give her a reason to leave this city?" he pushed.

"I do not understand."

He leaned forward and tapped his finger on the table as though to further make his point. "If she loved him and wanted to stay here, she would not be asking you for a reason to leave. If she loved the elf, she would not require an _excuse_ to deny his offer. She would have simply accepted it and said her goodbyes to us. She was asking you to tell her if _you_ wanted her to go."

"Of course I wish her to go with us, I have told her this," I replied, confused by what Aragorn's point was.

"You told her why we all wanted her company with us. You have not told her why you personally wish her to come with. You have not told her how you really feel, have you?" He crossed his arms as he leaned back again and considered me.

"She knows my feelings. Never has another being known me so well. She can hear my very thoughts," I pointed out.

"She barely speaks a handful of words in Sindarin. You told me yourself that she commented how easy it was to be around all of us since most of our thoughts are in languages she does not speak nor understand. You are assuming too much my friend. I think she was asking you to tell her if you feel for her as she feels for you."

"'As she feels for me?'" I repeated, my heart thumping in my chest. Surely, his words could not mean what I thought them to mean.

He sighed and ran a hand over his tired features. "It is plain to the rest of us that there has been something between the two of you for some time. It does not escape the notice of any of us that barely a night passes when you two do not sit talking long after the rest of us have retired."

"We shared most of our watches together, of course we have spent many nights speaking," I defended.

"Yet even after we reached the safety of this city, the two of you sit under the stars most nights talking," he countered. "Even with her growing friendship with the marchwarden, it is _you_ she often seeks out when she is troubled or upset. When she is distressed, she pushes the rest of us away, hiding her grief and sorrow, but you—_you_ she allows to comfort her. Whether it is merely friendship between you both, I cannot speak to, but in my heart, I think she is as uncertain as I am as to what is between you and was asking you to speak your feelings."

"You truly believe so?" I asked, hope forming a lump in my throat.

"Why else would she ask you to give her a reason to go with our number? If she loved the marchwarden, she would simply stay with him. She would not need a reason to leave," he repeated.

I stood suddenly, "I must speak with her."

I exited the tent before my friend could answer, crossing the campsite quickly to stand before Elaina's tent. A soft glow gently lit the canvas sides of the tent, and a shadow silently moved about within.

"Elaina," I softly called. "May I speak with you?"

Her handmaiden stepped out, her eyes cast differentially downward.

"Where is your mistress?" I asked.

"She has not yet returned for the night," the young elleth answered with a curtsey.

"Thank you," I replied, disappointment piercing me as the elleth returned to the tent and whatever her previous tasks had been.

The embers from the evening's fire still glowed softly, so I sat beside the fire and used a stick to stir the coals as I waited for Elaina to return.

Hope had surged within me at Aragorn's words, but what if he was mistaken? What if she _did_ love the marchwarden and was even now telling him she would stay with him and giving her heart to him? She would be forever beyond my reach then.

Worse yet, what if Aragorn was right and she did feel for me as I for her, and yet because I had not spoken the words to her sooner, had turned to the marchwarden instead? What if my words drove her to choosing the Galadhel?

I wanted her happiness, but what if I could be the one to give her that happiness? And what of my own?

My fingers softly touched my lips as I remembered Elaina's pressed to mine. She had said she acted on impulse and "adrenaline," but had she felt something more than friendship for me even then? Often my mind had conjured the memory and feel of her lips touching mine. How often I had wished that surprise had not ruled my body then. How often I had wondered at what would have occurred had my own response been different. What would have happened if I had returned her kiss?

As the sky brightened to gray, I began to fear that I had destroyed all hope for myself. I feared that she had made her choice and decided to stay in Lórien.

"Legolas? What are you doing still up?" Elaina's voice came suddenly from behind me, and I stood and turned to face her.

"I was hoping to speak with you again," I admitted, my voice breaking with my nervousness.

"What about?" she asked, hesitantly stepping closer.

I stayed still and let her slowly come closer. I tried to read her face, but could see nothing but puzzlement there.

"Have you decided what you shall do?" I could not help asking. As I imagined her telling me she would remain in the city with Haldir, I realized I had truly come to love her. The feeling had slipped into my heart so slowly I had not even noticed when it had taken root there. It was entrenched so deeply within my heart now, that I feared my heart might be torn asunder if she chose to stay.

"I told Haldir I couldn't stay here with him; you were right, I guess I don't really love him. But Galadriel offered me a place here as well," she told.

I felt my heart soar and plummet simultaneously. "You will stay?" I asked, my voice nearly quivering.

She shook her head. "I can't leave the hobbits alone to face their future. Boromir either for that matter. So I've decided to go with and keep you guys company for a while longer."

My heart plummeted further. She was accompanying us for the sake of the hobbits and the human.

"At least you shall come with us," I spoke, forcing a smile and feeling my heart lighten slightly at the thought. "Merry and Pippin shall be pleased with your decision."

She smiled, softly and wistfully. "Yeah, I guess I'd miss those two in particular too much if I decided to stay here." She glanced at her tent. "Well, guess I should go make sure all my stuff is ready to go. We'll probably be leaving soon."

I nodded and watched her disappear into her tent.

Perhaps the Dúnadan had been mistaken on her feelings for me. Perhaps she felt only the friendship and kinship she shared with the hobbits.

At the very least, my heart eased with the knowledge that she would come with us and I would not have to bid her farewell. Even if she could not return my love, I would consider myself blessed to have her continued friendship on our journey to bolster my courage in the darkness to come.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know some of you were disappointed that Lane isn't staying in Lothlórien with Haldir, but it's just the way the story kind of wrote itself. Honestly, when I started the story, I had for a while kind of considered and actually leaned fairly heavily towards creating something between Haldir and Lane. I was still considering it when our troupe got to Lórien, but I realized that if I did that it would be forced and unnatural. The way the story evolved, it just wouldn't have been fair to Haldir if she had stayed in Lórien. As our heroine realized, Haldir just doesn't know her and she would be repeating the same mistakes she made in her first marriage, and Lane is trying to learn from her past and grow ;-)

But thanks to everyone for reading and sticking with my story. And welcome to our new followers! I'm excited to have you, and I apologize for not responding individually to any of my reviews. I'm actually working on and posting this from the road. Literally! Thank God for data cards that provide internet even while driving down the road (no I'm not actually the one driving right now ;-) ).

Thanks again, and let me know what you think!


	15. Fond Farewells to Lothlórien

**Chapter 15: Fond Farewells to Lothlórien**

Turning away from Legolas once more, I pulled open my tent flap and let the barrier fall between us again.

My tent was neat and tidy, bags packed and ready for travel.

Something about the scene made my heart hitch. It was almost as if I'd never been here. Nothing was left to mark my presence. It was once again just an impersonal guest tent.

It shouldn't have affected me. Being a Marine meant that I had lived a transient life before. Never staying in one place too long and never leaving anything of myself behind to mark my presence.

Hell, I'd lived that way as a kid after I'd run from my father.

_Should have been related to the Gypsies instead of the Celts. I probably could have related to Romani people more than I did to the Celtic side of my family. _

I opened one of my new packs—I'd long since given Aragorn's back to him when Andreth acquired my own for me—and grabbed some clean clothes. We'd probably be leaving soon, but I was determined to get one last bath in since I had no clue when the next one would be.

Later, as I reentered the tent, still trying to pull my hair away from my face, I came face to face with Andreth. She was crossly waiting, hands on her slender hips.

"Where have you been?" She gestured to the pack I'd opened before I could even form a reply. "I had just gotten that pack all situated," she complained. "And now you have pulled it apart."

I just laughed at her indignation. "Sorry, I needed to bathe and put on clean clothes."

She grabbed the dirty clothes I'd changed out of from my hands, muttering about how she couldn't get them clean in time.

I shrugged. "No big deal. They're not too bad. Just put them at the bottom of the pack and I'll clean them when I can or wear them as they are."

She grumbled more under her breath as she set about repacking the clothes. I had to admit, she'd have impressed any soldier with her efficient packing. It was amazing how much she was able to stuff into my pack.

As she worked, she began speaking, tilting her chin to throw her words over her shoulder, but not looking up from her task to meet my eyes.

"I have packed you two sets of traveling clothes and an assortment of others, including extra socks in case you wear holes in any. I have also taken the liberty of packing the necessary soaps and oils you shall require to stay clean—including the 'razor' you use as well. I fear there shall be something I am forgetting; mores the pity, I am afraid you have not enough room to pack the spare pair of boots I had made for you, so I pray the pair you wear shall suffice."

I could tell she would have gone on, so I spoke up. "It's fine, Andreth. You've done more than enough for me. I'll be better packed than I was when I entered this city, and I've gone without creature comforts like spare clothing and boots before. I'll be fine," I repeated.

She glanced up as I moved around in front of her. "What if it shall not be sufficient? What if I forget something you desperately shall need?"

Hearing the desperation in her voice and seeing the tears that glistened in her eyes, I knelt next to her by the cot. "Hey now," I told her, my hands gently grasping her shoulders and turning her. "None of that. I'll be fine. I glanced through the pack earlier, and there's nothing more I need. Everything you've packed along with my weapons are all I need. I'll be fine. This isn't exactly my first rodeo."

"Rode-ee-oo," she repeated, drawing the word out in confusion.

I laughed and pulled her into a hug. "God I'll miss you, my friend."

Her arms quickly wrapped me in an iron embrace. "I shall miss you as well. You have become a dear friend to me. I wish I could accompany you and finally see beyond our own borders."

Her voice was so wistful. I squeezed her one last time and pulled away, gently wiping at the tears that had spilled over her rosy cheeks. "These dark days won't last. You'll be able to see beyond these borders one day if you still wish."

She smiled faintly. "They say you see the future. It comforts me to know the darkness shall pass."

I looked away uncomfortably. "'They?'" I repeated.

She looked embarrassed. "The city has been abuzz with talk of you, and the others."

"Huh. Didn't realize I'd become the topic of gossip," I commented. In the past, I'd always been able to tell when people were thinking and talking about me. It was important to know if people were starting to realize that I was different from then. Meant it was time to move again.

Although, in the past I'd been able to hear the thoughts of those around me. Here, I didn't understand their language and therefor didn't understand their thoughts.

Suddenly, I wasn't quite so sad to be leaving. I'd never cared for being the center of attention.

Andreth hugged me again. "Shall I see you again?" she whispered.

"I don't know," I whispered back. "I certainly hope so."

I released the elleth and stood before my emotions overwhelmed me. My hands started fiddling with my long bangs. They weren't quite long enough to stay pulled back in a braid. They'd been stylish side-swept bangs before I came to this world, but now they had become too long to suit bangs, yet not long enough to pull back. I'd considered cutting them shorter, but without being able to curl them, I knew they wouldn't look right.

Andreth pulled my hands away from fidgeting with them. "Stop that," she admonished. She reached into her apron and pulled out an elegant, delicate looking white hairpin. I stopped her hands from slipping it into my hair.

"It's beautiful," I exclaimed as I caressed it. I expected it to be a white polished wood like so many things in Lórien, but as I felt the slightly porous surface, I realized it was ivory. I traced the vines and leaves etched into it. The same designs were present throughout Lórien, so it must have been carved here.

Knowing it had to have come from as far east as Harad or further away even, I tried to push it back into her hands. "I can't take this. It's gotta be worth a small fortune."

She laughed and lightly wrapped my hands with the pin in mock punishment. "Nonsense. I have had this for some time, yet never wear it. My hair is too fair for it. Your dark hair will set it off very nicely. I shall be glad to know a friend shall wear it." As she spoke, she pulled my long bangs back, and secured them with the pin.

"Thank you," I told her softly.

Feeling another rising swell of emotion, I turned away. I started gathering my pack, but Andreth stopped me by calling my name.

Turning to face her, I saw her holding out a cloak in the same style that all the Galadhrim wore. She stepped behind me and helped me secure it around my shoulders with an elegant silver mallorn brooch. It wasn't like the green ones I knew the Fellowship would receive, but I smiled in gratitude, knowing that I wasn't truly a member of their number, just tagging along for my own purposes. I fingered the edges of the brooch, appreciating that it was more feminine looking than what I imagined the guys' would look like.

Feeling the warmth instantly envelope me, I told Andreth again, "Thanks." I turned and picked my pack up, adjusting the shoulder strap as I pulled it on. For everything Andreth had stuffed it with, it felt surprisingly light.

Long goodbyes had never been my forte, and this one was already threatening to make me emotional, so I gave Andreth a lopsided smile and a quick goodbye before I ducked out of the tent.

The Fellowship was gathered in the clearing near the fountain, they were likewise being garbed in similar cloaks. Food was still spread out on the long tables, so I grabbed some fruit and ate it quickly before walking to the fountain and getting some water to wash it all down with.

"You are ready for your journey then?" Haldir's voice asked behind me.

I turned to look at Haldir. He was dressed in his usual marchwarden garb and he wore a sad smile.

Looking away uncomfortably, I told him, "Yeah. I've got more stuff here than when I entered the city, so I should be ready for darn near anything."

He stepped closer and said, "Here."

I was forced to look back at him and saw him holding out a dark leather quiver full of arrows. I held the quiver and traced the extensive filigree that wrapped around it and then ran my fingers along the beautiful white arrows it held.

My eyes snapped up to Haldir's. "I don't understand," I told him.

"These are for you. I will feel better knowing you are well armed when you leave these borders, and so I had these made for you."

His generosity shocked me. "When did you have these made for me?"

He smiled, a sad but resigned expression. "I think I was always certain you would leave with the others, though I had hoped otherwise."

My gaze dropped again guiltily, but he gently nudged my chin up with his fingers.

"Do not be saddened. We elves believe that there is one soul destined for each of us. I had not realized how much my heart had yearned to fill that void. I find my hope renewed that one day I will find an elleth with a fiery spirit like yours." He laughed, his face finally splitting into a genuine smile. "Perhaps an elleth not quite as adventurous as you. One that does not wish to travel across Arda in such dark times."

I ruefully laughed with him. "Yeah, there aren't really any guys out there that are into girls like me."

Haldir started to say something, but then stopped, shook his head, and simply said, "You shall find your way to him."

Throwing caution, and any uncomfortable feelings to the wind, I threw my arms around Haldir, and hugged him tightly. "I'll miss you. If nothing else, you've become a dear friend to me. And I just want to thank you for everything you've done for me and everything you've taught me." I released him and once again held the quiver between us. "And thank you for this. It's gorgeous."

I removed the quiver he had given me when he first started teaching me, and he helped me don the new one.

"Remember all I taught you, and if time allows it, have the prince resume your lessons. Woodland elf he may be, but his aim is strong and true. He should be an adequate teacher," Haldir laughed as he took my previous quiver.

"Lane! Are you coming?" Aragorn called out as the others pulled their packs on.

I pulled the strap of my pack over my head again. Luckily, it was a messenger style bag, so it didn't interfere with my quiver or bow on my back, and rested over my right hip so I could still pull my sword from my left side.

"Yeah, I'm coming, Aragorn," I called out to him. I smiled apologetically at Haldir and told him, "Sorry. Guess I've got to catch up with the others."

"We shall take boats to meet the Lord and Lady and have a last meal with them before your group departs. Come with in my boat as I guide the others. I should like a few moments more with you before you must depart," Haldir replied.

"Sure," I replied. "It's been a while since I rowed a boat, but it's not something you forget."

I followed him to where the boats were landed, noting how quiet and withdrawn the others were. I could feel their sadness at leaving the safety of this land.

When we reached the boats, Legolas asked if I would ride with him and Gimli, but I begged off, saying I wanted to say one last farewell to Haldir.

Our short boat ride was mostly silent, but I enjoyed testing my muscles again and fighting the current as we rowed towards our meeting point with the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.

When we made land, I stayed back from the others, watching as they sat in the grass before the gracious lord and lady as elves hustled about with food.

"Why do you not join the others?" Haldir asked as he stood beside me and leaned on the opposite side of the tree I was propped against.

I smiled faintly and jerked my head towards the group as I continued nibbling at my food. "_They're_ the Fellowship. I'm going with them. But I'm not one of them. I've got my own reasons for going, and it's not the same agenda they're following. I won't make it as far as they're planning on going anyway; I just hope to make it far enough to accomplish my goals."

"Perhaps you are not part of the Fellowship," Haldir agreed, "yet you are traveling with them. I still do not understand why you do not join them."

I shrugged, struggling to put my feelings into words. "I guess—I just feel strange joining them at times like this. I know most of what's going to happen and be said, and I guess it feels like if I step into the middle of it, I'll screw things up somehow or change how things should happen. Besides, I've never been much of one for ceremony. Once I've got things ready to leave, I'd just as soon go and not hang around waiting."

He laughed and whispered, "I confess, I am not one for ceremony either."

We turned back to face the others just as the meal was finishing.

Galadriel stood and took a simple and delicate looking chalice from one of her maidens. She gave it to her husband as she spoke. "Now it is time to drink the cup of farewell. Drink, Lord of the Galadhrim! And let not your heart be sad, though night must follow noon, and already our evening draweth nigh."

Her eyes glanced briefly into the West, and then settled briefly on me. She gave a brief nod that I returned, before she turned to offer the cup to the others as she bade them farewell.

In that one look, I had seen that she was bidding farewell in more ways than one.

I was still pondering our shared look when she brought the cup to stand before me. "Only you in this world know how this age shall end. Shall darkness prevail, or shall the ring be destroyed? Whichsoever shall occur, I am bound to say my own farewells to this land and diminish unto the West."

I remembered our conversation in her garden and recalled her lamenting being barred from returning to the West and wondering if she would ever be allowed to return.

"You denied yourself the ring when Frodo offered it?" I asked her. She nodded. "And now the Valar has lifted your banishment. I thought you would be happy being allowed to return."

She sighed. "I find myself remembering all of the parts of these lands that I shall miss when I depart. But it is the will of the Valar."

I shook my head. "I can't imagine how hard it must be to think about leaving someplace that you've lived in for as long as you've been here. I never stay anywhere all that long."

She smiled knowingly. "The ways of the Valar are often difficult to interpret. But They steer our paths as best They can." Her fingers gently caressed my cheek. "I am pleased you finally made this choice, but your future still casts many ripples. More choices lie at your feet, but glory may yet be found at the end of the path—should you choose the right one. Be warned Elaina Rowan of Loughill—the end your heart yearns for can only be gained by first losing everything you know. Your path shall be more perilous than you can imagine and your trials shall take everything from you before you can gain what you seek."

I dazedly drank from the cup when she offered it, shocked that she had known my full name and my birthplace. She smiled that coy smile, and then she moved on, announcing she had gifts to give before we departed.

Still staying in the back, I only half watched the others receive their gifts. I knew what they would receive, so I wasn't much interested in seeing a repeat of what I already knew. My mind kept turning her words over and over as I examined them. But I knew I would likely not understand them until whatever she had spoken of had already come to pass.

I shook it off and pushed it from my mind. Dwelling on it would only drive me crazy. Instead, I watched Galadriel as she handed out her gifts and I contemplated her. As sad as Galadriel was to be leaving these lands, I envied her. I'd never stayed anywhere long enough to actually lament leaving it behind. Sure, I had wanted to return to my own world, but it was the familiarity of it I had missed. Not that world or any one place in particular.

Even with these lands, I would miss the peace I'd known here, but it wasn't the same as the sorrow Galadriel felt.

The others had received their gifts already and were packing up the boats again when Galadriel stopped in front of me once more.

Haldir had already left to help the others and gave me a simple farewell. Before we parted, we both extracted promises from the other that we'd be careful in our duties and journeys. I was thankful we were able to part fondly and as friends.

"I have gifts to mark your departure as well," Galadriel told.

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "You've given me more than enough. I entered your city owning only the clothes on my back and things of my own world. Now I have new clothes and weapons more suited to this world," I said, patting the sword at my side. It still felt strange to be patting a sword and not my guns, but I couldn't accept the risks my weapons brought to this world. "It's more than enough."

She smiled indulgently. "Those were gifts given to any who would have as such entered our city. I have gifts especially for you." She gestured one of her handmaidens forward. From a golden cloth, she withdrew something white and long. She gestured to the hairpin Andreth had given me earlier. "It is fortuitous that Andreth gifted you such a graceful and comely pin. For indeed, I have another to accompany it."

Her hands held it out to me, and as I took it, I saw that it was another, much larger ivory hairpin. Long and thin, it was designed to work like chopsticks, securing the hair in a tidy bun. The top of the hairpin was carved to look like a beautiful blossom, painted golden. I imagined it was styled after the blossoms of the mallorn trees, but I doubted I'd ever see them in bloom.

Looking back into Galadriel's gaze, I thanked her. "It's beautiful. And perfect." My hair, even in a braid, was getting long enough that I didn't like it swinging loose down my back to get in the way. I could just see myself grabbing for an arrow and trying to string my braid on my bow. Winding the braid on the back of my head into a bun, I slid the ivory hairpin through the coil to secure it.

She smiled with a strange satisfaction at my action, and took something else from another handmaiden. She held her hands out to display an intricate necklace on a silver chain. She carefully placed the necklace over my head, letting the pendant settle over my heart. As her hands dropped away, I picked up the pendant to see that it too was another gorgeous rendition of a golden mallorn blossom.

"So that you will remember," she told me, and then she turned away.

I was once again left speechless. I knew her gifts, like with all they others', would come to mean something or be important in some way, but at the moment, I couldn't think of anything.

I tucked the golden pendant inside my shirt, keeping it protected this way. I didn't know what the necklace was possibly supposed to make me remember, but I figured some day it would be important.

"Look at these silver belts we got!" Pippin exclaimed as he and Merry ran up to me.

I laughed as I leaned down to examine them and made appreciative noises as they showed how the short swords they had been given from Aragorn, fit onto their belts perfectly.

"What was your gift?" Merry asked me. "She waited and gave you your gifts after everyone had started packing up the boats again, so we didn't see."

I shook my head and simply said, "She gave me beautiful gifts as well."

Merry nodded, seeming to understand that I wasn't quite ready to talk about my gifts yet. But mostly it was that I wasn't quite sure what to make of my gifts.

Soon, Merry and Pippin had scurried back to the boats and eagerly climbed into theirs with Boromir, ready to start the next leg of their adventure and munching on the lembas we'd been given. They didn't know and couldn't see what dangers would await them, but their naïve eagerness brought a smile to my face. I wished they could always stay this way, and I would do my best to make certain that they weren't changed too much for the worse by their futures.

"Will you ride in our boat?" Legolas said coming to stand beside me and gesturing to Gimli who was still clutching a hand to his chest over his heart. I knew the strands of hair from Galadriel rested beneath his palm. "We have room for another," Legolas continued.

I nodded with a smile. "Sure. I'd love that."

As we finished loading our packs into our boat, the look of awe and wonderment began to slip a bit from Gimli's face. Under his breath, I could hear him muttering about having to journey in a boat.

When Gimli went to get in the front of the boat, I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I'll ride in the front, Gimli. I've got a lot of experience with water and boats, so I can help Legolas paddle."

"Well now, Lass, I can more than do my share of the work. You don'na have to take on such a task," he argued gruffly, drawing himself up to stand taller.

"What?" I laughed. "I thought you dwarves didn't make the silly mistakes of men like coddling women. I'm just saying that this particular task is one I'm more suited to. When it comes to swinging an axe, working metal, or building anything, I'll leave it to you."

He smiled in appreciation. "Ver'a well," he laughed. "You're better suited to riding in the front and seeing over the sides to watch for rocks ana'way," he said, gesturing up at my height.

When he started scrambling over the edge of the boat, I helped steady the sides of it, but knew better than to offer any more help. The other boats were already pushing from the shore and launching into the river, so with a nod to Legolas, we both began pushing into the water.

We maneuvered it as though we'd navigated many boats together, our timing and speed as we launched the boat into the water was perfectly synced. I took a few quick steps into the shallows of the water before hopping into my seat and digging my paddle in to push and steer as Legolas gave one last heave before swinging into his own seat. Even our paddling continued to be perfectly synced, digging our paddles in with the same force and the same speed. Without saying a word, we were able to effortlessly switch the sides that we paddled on, keeping our boat sliding along straight and smooth.

As our boats pushed away from the hythe, I listened absently to Galadriel's voice as it rose in a song of farewell. Like everything in elvish, I didn't understand her words, but the forlorn emotion and melancholy in her voice told me it was a song of farewell. Farewell to the Fellowship and farewell to the lands Galadriel had dwelt in for so many ages.

We paddled until our boats had pushed around the bend and Galadriel's voice faded from our ears. The mood of my companions was somber and sorrowful. We all grieved for our passing from the golden realm. Even Boromir's eyes glistened with tears at passing out of the safety of that land.

I heard Gimli's voice speak to Legolas behind me, his words thick with his sorrow. "I have looked the last upon that which was fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fair, unless it be her gift."

Glancing back, I saw his fist clenched over his breast again as he continued, "Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for Gimli son of Glóin!" I chuckled to myself at his dramatics.

I glanced back over my shoulder again as he finished his proclamation, and my eyes briefly met Legolas's eyes in a shared understanding as he spoke. We both understood that wounded feeling at leaving behind this fair land. "Nay!" he told Gimli. "Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Glóin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise." Our eyes met over Gimli's head again, and his eyes became haunted and filled with … regret? I couldn't fathom what caused the regret to flash in his eyes, but it was still there when he looked back to Gimli and continued, "But you have not forsaken your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlórien shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor grow stale. You have touched that which your heart yearns for, while my heart lies in ruin, fearing it never shall."

I turned in my seat in the bow of the boat, sitting sideways as I stared at Legolas. His eyes glanced up to meet mine again, and still they shone with sorrow. I knew he didn't regret that Gimli had come with us. Friends they had become and fast ones at that. There was such a close bond between them that hadn't been there when we entered the city. Did he regret himself continuing the journey with us? No. I knew his heart was committed to this quest and his heart had not wavered, he would not turn from his path from fear. Perhaps it was that he had been tempted by whatever Galadriel offered and felt a lingering guilt for contemplating it. But no. It hadn't been guilt I saw in his eyes. I'd clearly seen regret. Did he regret that I had almost decided to stay? Perhaps he truly did see me as one of their number now and regretted that I had nearly been tempted by the offer to stay and turn from their path.

"I'm here with you guys," I whispered. Gimli was closer to me, but I knew he wouldn't hear my words. But Legolas's eyes widened at my utterance. "I haven't forsaken my companions either," I added in a bare whisper.

Gimli hadn't heard my words to Legolas and started speaking before the elf could, replying to the words Legolas had spoken. "Maybe," he answered, "and I thank you for your words. True words doubtless, yet all such comfort is cold. Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zâram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf. Elves may see things otherwise. Indeed I have heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream. Not so for dwarves."

"That may be," Legolas conceded, "yet my heart tells me that a memory never gained is as greatly yearned for as that which you speak of."

"What of you, Lass? Do you take fond memories of this place with you?" he asked as he cleared his throat and gruffly rubbed at his eyes.

My smile was sad and wistful. "Yes. I'll miss this place too. I think I'll miss it more than anywhere I've ever lived or stayed before. It will have some of my happiest memories. Still—to me, being in Lórien was more like a dream than being in the waking world. It almost didn't seem real. Sad or happy, I'd rather live my life in the waking world. I'd rather hold out for one day finding happy memories that felt real."

Gimli sniffled again and grunted, gesturing to the river. "But let us talk no more of it. Look to the boat! She is too low in the water with all this baggage, and the Great River is swift. I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water."

I laughed and turned in my seat, taking up my paddle again as I drove the boat forward to follow Aragorn who led. Our boat did ride lower in the water, but it was said that the boats of the Galadhrim wouldn't overturn. Both Legolas and I were lighter than the two men were, but we were both in the boat together with the addition of a dwarf. Yet we were not slowed down. Between Legolas's superior strength, and my own strength and skill, we easily kept up with the others.

"What? Can't you swim master dwarf? I would think as heavy as your armor and weapons are you'd sink to the bottom straight off and merely have to walk across to get out," I joked with Gimli.

"Bah!" Gimli exclaimed with a mock growl. "That's enough out of you, Lass. Give ye a paddle and suddenly you be knowing everything."

We all laughed and suddenly our spirits were far lighter than before.

* * *

><p>We pressed on far into the evening, yet none of those paddling were over-weary. Aragorn had felt the need to press on late into the night, yet at the same, none were over-eager to push hard away from what had been our safe haven, content instead to let the stream more or less carry us on as we adjusted our path.<p>

As we made for land, there wasn't anywhere along the bank to pull the boats ashore, so instead, we tied the boats along the low hanging branches and climbed from the boats onto land. Legolas vaulted easily from our boat and helped Gimli gratefully clamber out next. With only myself in the boat, it tipped from side to side easily under my weight and the steps of my feet as I walked to the back where Legolas still waited, crouched lightly on a branch that ran along the bank and over the water and beside our boat.

He held his hand out to me to help me out, but I waved it away. "I've climbed in and out of my fair share of boats and even a few canoes, Legolas. I'm not some frail little girl," I laughed.

Placing my foot on Legolas's seat in the stern of the boat, I moved to push off it with my right foot and reached for a low hanging branch near Legolas as I moved. Yet as I pushed with my right foot, it tilted further into the water than I'd anticipated and my hand was too far away to reach for the branch I'd aimed for. Still, I quickly hopped upwards, pushing harder with my right foot to launch myself towards the tree as I changed my aim for a lower branch. My correction would have worked, but Legolas made a quick movement to grab for my arm when the boat tipped, and my hands collided against him instead of grasping the branch and the further tilt of the boat caused me to pitch forward into the cold water.

Sputtering, I rolled onto my back and stood, getting my feet under me again. The water was deep enough to come to my waist and I stood with my arms held wide and water streaming from my heavy sodden clothes. Looking up, I saw Legolas's horrified face as he still crouched on the branch. He started to launch himself into the water but I stopped him with an upheld hand.

Holding my hand up further to him, I told him ruefully, "Well, are you going to sit there staring at me? If you're still offering that help, I think I'll take it now."

He immediately reached down with both hands to grab my outstretched hand, and somehow, without even bracing himself, managed to pull me up from the water. Using my free hand and my feet, I easily swung up to sit beside him on the branch.

I held my arms out again as water still streamed from my clothes. Looking over at Legolas, I saw he was still staring at me with that horrified expression, but then his gaze drifted downwards before he jerked his gaze away from me.

Suddenly, I threw back my head and laughed deeply. "I guess next time I'll just take your offer of help so I don't end up taking another inadvertent bath," I chuckled as I pulled my shirt away from where it clung to my chest and arms. Surprisingly, my cloak didn't seem heavy with water, so I pulled it around myself to hide where my shirt and the jerkin over it had started to become transparent as it clung to me.

Thus covered, Legolas finally cracked a smile and lowered down to sit beside me as he joined my laughter. "I am astonished at your humor in this," he said.

I suddenly had a vague memory of my mother.

"_You can either laugh or cry, baby girl," she had told me. "And I haven't the strength for laughter." There had been tears running down her cheeks. But all of the few memories of my mother were of her crying. It shouldn't have been a surprise, knowing my father as I did._

It was a strange memory to suddenly surface in my mind. My memories of my mother were few, and this flash of memory was the clearest where she had spoken to me.

"'You can either laugh or cry,'" I repeated to Legolas. "And I'd rather laugh than cry any day."

"I apologize," Legolas finally told me. "I should have moved out of your way."

"Forget about it," I told him. "I should have just taken your help," I chuckled. I looked back into the boat. "Damn. Now I'm all wet and my pack with my clothes is still in the boat." My head fell back as I laughed in defeat. "Guess I can't get any wetter."

"Nay, allow me to retrieve it," Legolas said as he lightly sprang into the boat and then back out again, my pack in hand.

I stood on the branch and took it from his hands. "I really hate that you can do that," I told him shaking my head.

He grinned. "I am certain."

I stepped lightly onto the land and made my way towards the others. Gimli was already working on starting some tinder on fire. The hobbits had already been asleep when we made shore, but Merry and Pippin were now awake.

"Oy, why are you all wet?" Pippin exclaimed.

"Decided to take a bath," I told him with a grin and tugging my cloak further around me.

"Why'd ya leave your clothes on?" he asked.

I continued walking past all of them to find a place further into the woods where I could change out of my wet clothes. As I went, I heard Pippin oof as though he'd been elbowed and Sam tell him lowly, "Don't think she meant to, Pip."

By the time I walked barefoot back to camp, Gimli had a fire going, and I used several sticks to stretch my clothes out near the fire where its warmth would dry them. My boots were also plunked down to dry out. I just prayed the leather wouldn't shrink too bad.

"Decided to prove your swimming skills, Lass?" Gimli asked, struggling to keep his face straight.

"Humph," I groaned, struggling to keep my own face straight. "At least I didn't sink to the bottom."

He laughed and handed me a hunk of meat from whatever had been cooking over the flame. "Here Lass, eat up."

"Mmm," I said, unenthusiastically. "More plain roasted meat. I'd almost come to miss it too." I fluffed my cloak around me, and sat with my bare feet on my cloak and tucked underneath me to keep them warm. It still amazed me that my cloak was already dry, and once again warm. Truly magical.

Gimli winked at me. "Good thing I saved you a piece then, isn't it, Lass?" I smiled at the way he always called me "Lass." He rarely called me Lane, but I couldn't bring myself to mind. The way he said Lass had come to be more of a friendly endearment.

Legolas and I took the first watch, standing away from the dying fire so the light didn't hinder our sight.

As I usually did, I hopped onto a large rock to sit while Legolas chose to stand stoically beside me just as he usually did.

"Do you regret coming with us?" Legolas suddenly asked.

"No," I replied in surprise. "I'm glad I came with. I've never been good at staying in one place real long. It was peaceful in Lórien, but I would have become restless again and wanted to move on. Better sooner than later."

"Was it truly your desire to come with us?" Legolas asked, his face worried.

"Yes, Legolas. It's what I wanted. I still have things I want to do."

"You do not regret leaving the marchwarden?"

I shook my head. "I'll miss my friend, but I don't regret leaving. I just hope he finds an elleth one day who truly deserves him."

Legolas sighed and looked again into the forest. I let my barriers slip to catch his thoughts. Meaningless words flowed through me, but such misery struck me that I drew a sharp breath. He glanced at me, and I immediately scooted over on the rock, patting the space between us.

"Come on," I told him. "I miss Lothlórien too, and we can miss it together."

He slowly climbed up the rock to sit cross-legged beside me. I grasped his hand between us and leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling some of his anguish slip away. It was surprising to me now how natural the simple act of holding Legolas's hand had become. It was hard to imagine that the simple act had once seemed too intimate and uncomfortable for me.

I wondered in what other ways I was changing.

"I am glad to have you with us," Legolas whispered. "It means much to me that you have come."

I smiled but didn't raise my head. "Me too. You've become a better friend than I've ever known. It wouldn't have been the same to stay in Lothlórien without you. It's strange to me to have such a good friend after so long alone, but I don't know what I'd do without you." I gave a light-hearted laugh and joked, "Hopefully, I'll never have to find out."

I laughed at my words, but a part of me was terrified by just how true that statement was becoming. With Legolas, I was able to speak about things I couldn't with anyone else, and I worried about what I'd do if I lost that.

* * *

><p>Several more days passed as our first day had. Early mornings followed by paddling long into the night. Some nights we made for shore, but a few we passed in our boats.<p>

The days bled one into another, and my own memory of the order and timeline of what was to come was hazy after leaving Lothlórien. I knew the general events, but I couldn't remember how much time would pass between the notable action.

I knew there was nothing I could do to change the course of our path, so I trudged along just like the others. Silence had descended over all of us. But I felt myself withdraw even more. My purpose in coming with the Fellowship as we left the golden woods had been to protect Merry and Pippin as best I could and to stand beside Boromir in his last moments. Yet guilt began to assault me as we drew closer to that moment.

As much as I hated what I knew Merry and Pippin would go through, I hated what I knew Sam and Frodo would face even more. And hopelessness filled me at the knowledge that I could not help them. The darkness of the ring was steeped in Frodo and I knew it would only grow. I was filled with shame at the knowledge that the ring had so easily breached my defenses in Lórien, and I was terrified to let myself close to it again. Frodo held the fate of this world in his hands, and only he would be able to destroy the ring. And the price he would pay for us all was so very high.

I couldn't help Frodo with his journey or burden. But I was more determined than ever to help the other hobbits and Boromir as well.

I just needed to figure out how I was going to help them all without destroying the fate of this world.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** We're drawing closer to the end of the first book and the parting of the Fellowship.

Also, any dialogue you recognize is from Tolkien, although I have made some additions to it.

As always, let me know what you think! And thanks so much to those who have taken the time to leave your thoughts! They're greatly appreciated.


	16. Bitter the Parting

**Chapter 16: Bitter the Parting**

Several more days had passed when we again made camp late into the night. I was just thankful for the break in monotony of endless paddling downstream. I was able to have some conversation with Gimli and Legolas, but mostly it was too awkward to maintain while paddling. Then there was also the fear of being overheard.

Legolas steered our boat towards the riverbank, and I was pleased to see Aragorn and Boromir already getting out of their boats. At least we wouldn't have to spend the night hunched over in our boats again. I'd spent many restless nights sleeping in strange places before, but never the bow of a boat.

I was already fantasizing about being able to stretch out and sleep when Legolas gave an extra burst of strength to drive our boat onto land. I hopped over the front of the boat, and as my feet landed in the murky shallows, I turned and helped pull the boat further out of the water.

Gimli and Legolas left me to tie off the boat as they unloaded only the essentials for the night. I started to follow after them, but out of the corner of my eye saw Boromir walk further down the riverbank alone.

His head was down and his shoulders were slumped forward as a man who was bearing the weight of the world. And I knew from the feelings radiating from him that he had to be numbered among the most conflicted men in this world.

I hesitated, but then followed after him, letting stones and twigs turn under my feet so he'd hear my approach. Still, I was a bare few feet from him before he marked my presence and turned.

"Oh, do you now deem my being acceptable enough to grace with your presence?" he sneered.

I took a half step back and raised my hands in surrender. "Whoa there. Don't go attacking friends now," I joked, trying to mask the stab of guilt that flashed through me. I had been avoiding him the past several nights. His emotions and thoughts were becoming more and more volatile, and it had simply been easier to avoid him rather than struggle to shut his thoughts out.

"You've been brooding so much the past several nights," I continued, "that it seemed like a good idea to let you be."

The anger fled from his face, replaced by misery as he ran a worn hand over his features, as though trying to wipe it all away. "Forgive me for snapping. I am quarreling with our leader and now throwing biting remarks at ladies." As he spoke, his voice became low and graveled, matching the misery of his expression.

"Hey now. I think I'm offended," I joked, hoping to lighten the mood. "I'm sure as _hell_ no lady."

He shot me a dirty look at my curse and I just grinned; though I didn't think he understood most of my curse words, he still claimed it was no kind of language for women. Finally, he did give a half-smile at my innocent grin.

"Forgive me. I should not be quarreling with you. In truth, I do not blame you for avoiding me," he lamented.

I shrugged. "I understand lashing out at friends when you're stressed. There's no need for apologies." I laughed. "Hell, I've been known to lash out at people for no damn good reason. Well, other than it being the wrong time of the month."

Boromir obviously understood my reference and squirmed uncomfortably.

"What I'm saying is I understand and don't blame you. I bet Aragorn doesn't blame you either," I offered.

He bent down to pick up a twig, nervously breaking off pieces to toss in the river as he seemed to struggle with what to say.

As far as I knew, Legolas was the only member of the Fellowship that knew I could hear thoughts, and I preferred to keep it that way, so I made the effort to refrain from listening to Boromir as he struggled, but the sheer force of his emotions was making it difficult.

"I fear that I no longer know my own mind," Boromir suddenly whispered.

I moved closer, leaning against a tree a few feet from him. I wanted to ensure he had space and didn't feel trapped, but also be close enough that he could confide in me if he chose.

"We all have struggles in our minds that cause us to wonder at what's going on," I replied, folding my arms and forcing nonchalance. I just hoped he would buy the façade and feel comfortable unloading some of his burdens. I feared if I turned towards him and waited expectantly, he'd close off and keep it all locked inside.

"This is different," he argued. "I find myself quarreling at every turn—even with myself. I act and speak in ways that when I have calmed, I find deplorable. I know not what has come over me. At times, I look at myself only to find I recognize not who I am."

He gave a shuddering sigh and continued breaking the stick in his hands apart. But I kept silent and waited for him to speak.

"Nay, 'tis not truth that I know not what has come over me," he continued in a low whisper. "Yet, I am ashamed by what has. It has breached my mind and stained my thoughts, and I am a lesser man for it."

"You're not a lesser man, Boromir. You are strong—a warrior."

"I am weak. My mind made feebler every day," he growled.

"You fight great battles in your mind. Battles others can't even comprehend. The Ring tries to break you, but you haven't broken."

"How long until it does? I fear not long. Its whispers are nearly ever-present in my mind. I cannot escape it." He gave a frustrated groan and flung the rest of the stick into the river. "I am weak," he repeated.

"You're not weak."

"Then why have only I been affected?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

"I think it's tried to reach into all of our minds."

He glanced at me, skepticism clearly marking his face. "It has begun to affect Frodo; yet he carries the burden, it is expected. The other hobbits are innocents; it is unsurprising the Ring has not so affect them. I know not how it could nor would affect a neither dwarf nor elf, but it does not bring you or Aragorn to such ruin. What other explanation can there be but that I am weak?"

"You may not see Aragorn actually struggle with it, but I assure you, he does. And as for myself? Yes, I have," I admitted. I'd spoken to no one of my shameful experience kneeling over Frodo, but I knew Boromir was one person who could wholly understand my weakness.

"You have?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"Yes. In Lothlórien, I heard it speaking in my own mind, twisting my thoughts so expertly, I barely realized they weren't my own." I shook my head and said with self-incrimination, "I was kneeling beside Frodo's sleeping body, ready to grab the Ring before I even realized it wasn't my thoughts and saw what I was doing. How pathetic does that make me?"

His gaze softened at my harsh words. "Yet you stopped."

"Barely."

"Still, you stopped, and have not since been so affected," he pointed out, his own gloom returning.

"It offered to return me to my world. And I realized there was no way it could follow through on that. So what else could it offer me? I have no family or city to protect here, so it realized it had nothing more it could dangle before me and gave up on me." I shook my head. "Even still, I stay away from Frodo if I can."

Boromir continued brooding, so I stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It continues to haunt you because you are a good man who loves his people and his city. But you've got to remember that it has to be destroyed. A weapon of magic like that will never answer to another. It will only ever have one master."

He nodded. "When I have calmed, and the thoughts do not swirl so frantically about my mind, I know this. I know the weapon of the enemy must be destroyed. Yet, at other times, my mind tells me such a weapon could save my city. Is not saving the lives of so many worth any cost?"

I shook my head. "No. Because, for how long will you have saved them? What good is saving a few lives right now, when it ends in everyone dying anyway?"

"I know this," he whispered. "I know this now, yet, will I know it later?"

More despair oozed from him, and I couldn't keep his thoughts and feelings out any longer. Giving him a quick hug, I whispered, "Only you can answer that."

I pulled away and left him where he was, trudging back towards the noise of the others. I felt exhausted. Trying so forcefully to keep thoughts and feelings that strong out of my mind left me drained. Though it had only affected my mind, even my body felt weak and tired.

Gimli offered me some lembas and water, which I gratefully accepted. But even after eating, I felt like lying down and sleeping for a week straight. I'd become spoiled in Lórien. The minds of the elves were easy to keep out, and even when I let their thoughts wash over me, they didn't exhaust me the way human minds did. I was out of practice now. Even a few minutes with Boromir was too much.

"Tell me we won't have to portage the boats again," I groaned lowly. As sore as I suddenly felt, I very much doubted I'd be able to help as I had last time.

Glancing up across the fire, I caught Legolas's worried stare as he watched me. No doubt wondering and worrying at what was wrong with me. I glanced at the sky and then to the woods. It was our turn again to take first watch. Nodding to Legolas, we both stood to take our duty.

For nearly twenty minutes, we were both silent. Lost in our own private thoughts. Then, Legolas broke the stillness.

"You had not told me the Ring spoke to you."

Startled, I straightened from the tree I was leaning against and turned to face him. "You heard me speaking to Boromir? You were nearby, or were you following me?"

"Boromir has not been himself for some time. I feared for you," he relied, unrepentant.

I sighed and forced myself to be calm. "I can take care of myself," I calmly reminded him.

"Did the Ring speak to you?" he pressed.

"Yes."

"What did it say? What did it offer?"

"It said it could send me home. It told me to take the Ring, and it would send me home. And that's when I knew it was the Ring in my mind. I've never had a home or thought of anywhere as home. So, I got the hell outta there and I try to stay away from it."

"Do you yet wish to return to your former world?"

I stared at him, trying to formulate my answer.

"No." I was startled by the answer that came out. There were times I still missed being in my old world for the simple fact that I knew that world and I knew my place in it. But as time passed, I found myself forgetting what my life had been like before. Part of me was terrified at the thought that a piece of me was slipping away, but the feeling lessened each day as I forgot more of my old world.

"I miss that in my old world I knew my place, but I can't say I miss that world or want to return to it," I continued. "I like this world. Home or not. Magic rings or not," I laughed.

"Perhaps, if this darkness is abated one day, you can make your home in Mirkwood," Legolas suggested, taking a step closer.

"Mirkwood?" I repeated in surprise. "What would your father think of you inviting some random human to come live in his kingdom?"

He closed the distance between us and lifted my left hand to press against his chest over his heart. "You are not a 'random human,' Elaina. You are a dear friend to me, and have come to mean more to me than any other living soul has."

"Yeah, but come live in Mirkwood? I mean, still, wouldn't your father be upset by that?" I repeated, confused by his offer.

"Elves do not interfere with the choices made by the hearts of other elves," he earnestly answered.

I stepped back, letting my hand fall away from Legolas. "What are you saying?" My voice came out hushed. Almost afraid to give voice to the thoughts suddenly racing in my mind.

"I care for you. More than I have ever cared for another. You mean more to me than any other."

"Stop! You can't. That's not possible. I'm mortal. You're an elf," I said in a rush.

He shook his head. "It is no matter to me. I have never felt as I do for you."

Legolas continued expectantly looking at me.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Is it not possible that you could feel the same for me?" Legolas asked, some of the hopefulness leaving his face.

"How long have you felt this way?" I asked instead of trying to formulate my own answer.

"I cannot say for certain when the feeling came upon me, but it has been there for some time," he admitted.

My heart lurched. It knew what it wanted to answer, but my head reminded me of all the reasons why it would never work or that I was being selfish. I knew what was going to happen in this world, but I didn't know what would become of me. What if I died before the War of the Ring was over and it caused Legolas to fade? Or what if by merely giving in to my heart, I screwed up what was supposed to happen in this world anyway.

Or what if I wasn't meant to do the whole settle down and marry thing. I'd tried once and it hadn't worked. What if the problem was me? What would happen if I couldn't take being married and screwed things up with him too?

Legolas wasn't a human as my first husband had been. Elves only gave their hearts once.

"What if we're wrong? What if we're both making more of this than it really is? What if we ruin a good friendship?" I asked him.

He looked startled. "I do not understand. I know what I feel. The question is what do you feel?"

"This is too fast," I said, talking in a rush again. "This is happening too fast. I was only just coming to understand why I was stupid for even considering staying with Haldir and ruining his life, and now you spring this on me. I need time. I need time to think about this."

He nodded. "My apologies. I am aware I have brought this to you suddenly, but I cannot keep it in my heart any longer. I almost lost you to the marchwarden and I felt I had to tell you." He stepped closer again and slowly reached for my hand, giving me plenty of time to pull away again. When I didn't, he slowly lifted it and turned it over, pressing a gentle kiss to my palm. "If you need time to understand what your heart tells you, then you shall have it. It took me time to hear the words of my heart as well. However, I hear them now and had to give voice to them. I shall ever be your friend."

I nodded and turned away, my hand slowly slipping from his grasp. I walked back towards camp, vaguely aware that our watch wasn't over yet, but needing to escape Legolas's hopeful eyes.

My head knew all the reasons this was crazy. But I was afraid if I didn't make myself take the time to step away from Legolas, I knew just exactly what my heart would give voice to.

And what if he was wrong? What if I screwed this up and lost my closest friend. I missed sex, sure, but I didn't know what I'd do if his friendship was yanked from my grasp. It had come to mean too much to me.

* * *

><p>Everyone was silent the next day as we continued downstream.<p>

The day had been alternately rainy and foggy, the dreary weather casting a further pall over my companions.

Finally, the fog lifted and the rain stopped. But our attention was no longer on the weather. The banks of the river were closer, funneling the water down an increasingly smaller river, making the water faster.

Soon, two great shapes loomed in the distance.

"Behold the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!" Aragorn called out. "We shall pass them soon. Keep the boats in line, and as far apart as you can! Hold the middle of the stream!"

Legolas began righting our course and aiming for the center of the current and then we both dug our paddles into the water, leaning our weight in to slow the boat and give the two boats ahead of us more space. Even Gimli awkwardly took up a paddle and helped to slow our course.

But as we passed through the gap, we all bowed our heads respectfully to the wardens of Númenor. Gimli exclaimed as he admired the great pillars. They were certainly impressive. Nothing I had seen in my own world could rival the beauty of their size and the sheer man-hours of work that had to have been necessary to complete them. And without the equipment and power tools available in my world.

"Isildor and Anárion," I whispered in awe.

"You know the Númenórean lords of old, lass?" Gimli asked.

Smiling, I replied, "I've heard of them, but I never dreamed of actually seeing the Argonath. They were brothers, and ancestors to Aragorn."

"Not many in this age have seen them," he agreed.

We paddled down the lake that opened beyond the pillars, and continued until the water began to rush again and we could hear the thundering of Rauros becoming loud in our ears, though we made for land well short of the falls while we could still steer our boats from its hungry path.

Legolas landed our boat on a sandy stretch of riverbank beside the other two boats, but for once, I held my seat in the front, not moving to help pull it further to shore.

This was truly the fork in the road.

For everyone.

The Fellowship would here break, and Boromir would part with his life.

And what would be my plight?

The Fellowship would make camp, believing they would decide their next course of the journey. West to the relative safety of the borders of Gondor. Or East, into the heart of Mordor.

Yet, those would not be the choices made. Frodo and Sam would continue East of course. But the rest would make choices they had not known were on the table.

And one would perish.

Stepping out of the boat was taking one more step towards that fate.

"Elaina!" Legolas called, lightly touching my shoulder.

I looked up to see Gimli walking away and Legolas standing on the sand where he had pulled the boat further from the water.

"Are you unwell?" he queried, the backs of his fingers testing the warmth of my forehead.

I tried to smile at his worry, but could only manage a slight lift to one corner of my mouth.

"I'm fine." I don't know if the lie was for his benefit or my own. But the narrowing of his gaze told me it did not slip by his notice.

"What is wrong, Elaina? You look quite pale."

This time I forced a wider smile, trying to convince us both that I was fine. "I'm a redhead. Pale is a perpetual state," I joked.

"What is wrong?" he repeated.

I sighed and laid my paddle down in the boat, picking up my pack as I stood. "We have to decide which direction to go next. I'm just worried about the rest of our journey," I answered in half-truths.

Standing in the boat, for the first time I found myself looking down at the elf. But he seemed unfazed by my advantage.

"Is there something coming?" he whispered.

I smiled sadly. "So many things. But you know I can't tell you. It might change what happens. And I'm struggling enough to keep from changing things."

He considered my words and then carefully asked, "Should I have any fear of harm coming to Frodo? Is Gollum still out there?"

I smiled, my heart warming at the knowledge that Legolas was still so committed to the Quest he'd sworn himself to. I could appreciate duty.

Glancing at the river, I answered, "Gollum's still out there somewhere, but he's not a problem. And Frodo will do what he must to complete his appointed task."

He smiled at my assurances, and then raised his hand up to me. "Then have faith that all else shall turn out in the end."

I nodded and took his offered hand, stepping over the side of the boat with his help. As we walked towards the others, I gratefully held onto Legolas's hand, ignoring the fates we were treading towards.

* * *

><p>The next morning broke bleak and heavy. Thick clouds hung in the air as smoke and fire billowed in the East. It was a fitting sight to accompany the ominous choice hanging as heavily in the air as the clouds.<p>

Breakfast was served without ceremony and in silence.

I almost preferred the silence. I knew when it was broken, everything I had feared would begin.

"The day has come at last," Aragorn said, his words sounding like the nail in the coffin to my ears. "The day of choice which we have long delayed. What shall now become of our Company that has traveled so far in fellowship? Shall we turn west with Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor; or turn east to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever we do must be done soon. We cannot long halt here. The enemy is on the eastern shore, we know; but I fear that the Orcs may already be on this side of the water."

Only silence met Aragorn's words, so he continued.

"Well, Frodo, I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf," Aragorn's eyes briefly met mine, letting his grief show through, but thankfully, it no longer showed blame, "and though I have tried to bear his part, I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely it seems that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate."

Frodo considered Aragorn's words silently for a few moments, and then he glanced up at me, hope shinning in his eyes.

My voice came out hushed and choked as I forced my words. "It would be so easy to tell you what you should do and what path you should take, but that's a choice you have to make. I can't tell you what you should do. You have to decide for yourself."

Disappointment filled his eyes and I caught snatches of his thoughts—his anger that I knew what was to come but wouldn't share my knowledge.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and stood, walking away to stand on the riverbank near the boats. I shouldn't have stayed as long as I had. I wasn't part of the Fellowship, and shouldn't have stayed for even part of their discussion.

After a few moments had passed, Legolas came to stand beside me by the river.

"Thank you," I told him, after several more minutes had silently passed.

"Whatever for?" he asked in surprise.

"For not saying anything or trying to come up with meaningless words that are supposed to comfort me. Just standing there in silence is more comforting than any words right now," I admitted, turning and looking up at him.

He took my hand in his. "I understand that at times our hearts cannot hear any words, right, or wrong."

For nearly another half-hour, we stood silently, simply watching the water pass by and waiting. All too soon, Aragorn called out from his place near the fire.

"You go," I told Legolas, releasing his hand. "They want to further discuss what Frodo might choose."

"You will not come discuss with us?"

"No. It's nothing I don't already know. Go."

He nodded and joined the others sitting around the campfire.

I listened with half an ear, but continuing to let the water mesmerize me until Boromir finally returned to the campsite. I continued waiting until he had vaguely related Frodo vanishing and the others became concerned about where Frodo had gone. Soon, the others were frantically splitting up and running in various directions to search for Frodo.

"We shall all be scattered and lost," Aragorn lamented. "Boromir! I do not know what part you have played in this mischief, but help now! Go after those two hobbits, and guard them at the least, even if you cannot find Frodo. Come back to this spot, if you find him, or any traces of him. I shall return soon."

I stayed by the river as Aragorn and the others ran from sight. Turning, I pinpointed where Frodo's thoughts were coming from as he watched the campsite and beach, using the Ring to stay hidden from the others.

"You'll have to move quickly if you want to be gone before the others get back," I told him.

He gasped, and then removed the ring, appearing closer to the riverbank than I'd pegged from the feel of his thoughts.

"How did you know I was there?" he uttered.

"I knew you would come back here," I answered simply.

"Shall you try to stop me as well?" he asked, walking to stand between the boats and me, glancing speculatively at them.

"No."

"Then to come with me?" he asked suspiciously.

"No. I'm not as strong as others are. Not strong enough to accompany you where you're going while you carry your burden."

"Then, why are you here?"

"To say goodbye, I guess. And to wish you luck." I paused. "You're very brave, Frodo. Remember, things happen as they must."

I nodded one last time to him, and turned towards the woods, sprinting in the direction I had seen Boromir go after the younger hobbits.

My hand automatically grazed across my right hip, searching for my gun and cursing when I remembered I didn't have it any longer. Yet I had my sword, bow, and a quiver full of arrows. I gave an extra burst of speed as I listened for Boromir's thoughts, readjusting my path when I finally caught their tenor.

As I closed the distance, I cursed myself when I heard the all too real sounds of battle. Swords clashed and the guttural cries of Orcs rang out.

A new burst of speed found me, driving me onward to reach Boromir in time.

Thoughts, plans, right and wrong, it all flew from my mind. There was only one simple truth: one of my comrades was in danger.

The Orcs were focused on Boromir as they surrounded him. I burst through the trees, taking advantage of their focus on Boromir to fire my bow and bring down several of them before they turned to face me. Slinging my bow across my back with its string across my chest, I drew my sword and worked my way across the clearing to stand at Boromir's back. Merry and Pippin fought nearby, slashing with their own swords and even throwing rocks at Orcs further away.

"You should not have come," Boromir grunted over his shoulder.

"You're welcome," I tossed back at him, blocking the sword of another Orc.

With two of us fighting, Boromir was finally able to stop long enough to bring the Horn of Gondor to his lips, letting its clear call ring out.

I scanned about us as we fought, looking for the Orc I knew would pierce Boromir with so many arrows, and finally, I spotted it standing on a crest a little ways off. As it strung a grisly black arrow on its bow, I threw my weight into shoving at Boromir's shoulder. He skidded sideways, losing his balance, but keeping his feet.

Too late, I realized my miscalculation in pushing Boromir from the path of the arrow. In doing so, I had placed myself in the path of the black arrow. My height was my saving grace. Boromir was taller and a larger target, so instead of striking him squarely in the chest, the arrow sliced across my outstretched forearm.

At the burning pain across my arm, my legs suddenly felt weak, buckling as I struggled to regain my balance, driving my sword into the ground as I tried to push to my feet again.

"Lane!" Boromir cried, rushing to stand in front of me again.

"No!" I shouted, wishing I could convey all my thoughts in that one word. That the arrow that sliced across my arm had been meant for him and not me. That he was the one truly in danger.

But my breath escaped me in a pained rush as a black arrow slammed into his chest in the next moment.

I struggled to my feet, hoping to push him from the path of another arrow, but he was struck again before I could reach him.

The second arrow struck off-center, spinning him partially with its force. In the next moment, I grabbed at his shoulder, trying to steady us both. Our eyes met in pained recognition. We both knew the arrows that struck him were fatal.

"Protect the hobbits," he wheezed his voice and breath coming out in a pained gasp.

I had failed to protect Boromir. After everything, I had tried to stop it and failed. I hadn't considered whether it was right or wrong, just acted on the soldier's instinct that wouldn't let me stand by. Now, there was nothing more that I could do for him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him.

Pushing away, I sprinted towards the hobbits as Boromir turned again towards the advancing Orcs. Merry and Pippin had stopped their onslaught against the Orcs, their horrified faces bearing witness to Boromir's demise.

"Run!" I yelled at them as I closed the distance. I could hear Boromir's sword ringing out behind me as well as the sickening thuds of yet more arrows striking him.

The hobbits remained motionless, too shocked to move. When I reached them, I slowed only long enough to shove at them, forcing them to turn and retreat.

I heard the thundering of heavy steps behind me, and turned to meet them and thereby give the hobbits the chance of escape, but as I whirled to face the Orcs, a sudden pain erupted across the back of my head, making light burst behind my eyes before everything suddenly went dark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's the end of book one!

The journey continues in book two.

When that chapter is ready, I'll post a quick note on this story to let you guys know the new story is up.

If you have noticed, I changed the name of this story to reflect that the series will be called: _Protect and Serve_. Book one will be: _To Protect_, and book two will be: _To Serve_. Book three will be named: _To Honor._

I have a bit of a habit in other stories I write under my other alias of using song titles for my chapter titles when they fit. And I couldn't help doing it here. _Bitter the Parting, _by John Doyle is a beautiful (and sad) song. If you've never heard it, give it a listen. The lyrics aren't 100% fitting to this story, but it has such an awesome melody to it.

Thanks so much to everyone for reviewing this story, and for adding it to favorites and alerts. You are all so wonderful!

And as always, let me know what you think!


	17. Part 2 up!

**A/N: **The first chapter for my new story is up, check it out!

Also check out my banners for my stories. Links in my profile!


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